Ryou's Story
by ACE329
Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing I have left...my words.
1. What's Mine is Yours

Ryou's Story

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

Author's Note: To those of you who know every little detail about Ryou's biography, keep in mind that I am not an expert. I just make things up as I go, in addition to recalling as many facts as possible. I'm just trying to fill in the gaps. But clearly, there may be some inconsistencies. Just bear with me, all right? This isn't a fact book, it's a story.  
This story takes place from the moment Ryou meets his darker half up to the Egypt Arc…I'm assuming this is about a one-year time span. It does not happen in our present time, 2009! I don't remember when YGO officially ended in Japan, but it was certainly a while ago…

Chapter One- What's Mine is Yours…Apparently

It was on September 1, 2002 when my identity had been robbed from me. My father, in the spirit of good will, had given me a souvenir from his summer-long trip to Egypt, and also as an early birthday present. He informed me that he had discovered this souvenir, in the shape of a large golden ring, in an open market, by a vendor selling "exotic treasures." Knowing my taste, my father opted to give me the rarest looking artifact he could find.

I believe, if my father hadn't felt so guilty about his constant absence away from me, that he would not have bothered to purchase such an unusual treasure, at such a high cost.

What a mistake he had made that fateful day.

But can I really blame him? Who would ever fathom, for even a moment, that an evil, malicious, fiend of a spirit possessed the souvenir my father had presented to me?

So when my father had given me this gift, I had (rather elated, I will admit), accepted the present with open arms.

Upon my first viewing of this present, which is what we now know as the millennium ring, I thought it was absolutely beautiful. I had never seen anything so striking, so _astounding_, in my entire life.

A large golden ring that measured to be about the size of my fists balled together, it seemed to capture even the smallest fragments of light that came within its vicinity; it would reflect the light into pigmented rays, casting it into hundreds of different directions. Along the bottom half of the halo-shaped ring, small golden wires encircled it, five in total, which were about an inch apart. Attached to these wires were elongated spikes, pointing ever downward. They were clearly welded to perfection, tapered with exact precision. They looked so _sharp_, almost like they could be a weapon.

My favorite part of this artifact was the Egyptian relic that resided in the center, or what I referred to as the heart of the ring. Resting perfectly balanced laid a triangle-shaped sheet of gold, the primary point meeting with the upper half of the ring. In the midst of the triangle resided an emblem, one which I always felt looked like the eye of Horus, only somehow more enigmatic.

Even when I first set eyes on the millennium ring, I could tell there was something ethereal about it. I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but it was as if an inexplicable power was emanating from the ring's very core, especially from its eye. Perhaps it was because of this mysterious spiritual presence that I was sensing that made it all the more beautiful to me. It was very much like how an insect is drawn to a strong source of light.

But didn't anyone ever tell me? The most beautiful things in life also tend to be the deadliest.

I was first introduced to the spirit that resided inside the ring the night that led up to my birthday, literally at the stroke of midnight. I had school in the morning, but I was restless.

The entire day that I had the millennium ring in my possession, I simply couldn't take my eyes off of it. I was so mesmerized by the ring's breathtaking appearance that I wanted it to be my newest accessory, something to wear that was different. (You can imagine that as a teenager who was forced to wear a uniform, breaking from conformity, even in the smallest way, was something to be desired). Noticing that there was a convenient spot to put a cord through the ring, I decided to take a thin piece of rope and loop it into a sort of necklace. True, it was a quite gaudy fashion statement, especially for myself, but this ring was too special to me to simply let it collect dust on my bedroom shelf.

Thus started the first day I wore the millennium ring and, unbeknownst to me at the time, the beginning of an endless cycle of anguish.

As I was getting ready to go to bed that night, I had much on my mind. My birthday was the next day after all. Another year older…I would be soon be sixteen. According to my father, I was born very close to, if not exactly, midnight.

It was always a little tradition of mine to stay up until the time of my birth on this day. I'm not sure what was so special about looking at the clock and saying, "Oh, will you look at that. I was born just now," but I was determined to stay awake. Pretty lame, right? But truly, I have an unnatural tendency to go to bed no later than eleven. I just get so tired! My father had once jokingly asked me, "What kind of teen insists on going to bed this darn early?"

I know my father's right- I make a lousy teenager. I'm not rebellious, I don't talk back, I don't partake in illegal activities (what a laugh!), and I most certainly am _not_ a night-owl. I just wasn't brought up that way, I suppose. But I'll get to that topic later.

…Anyway. That night, as I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom connected to my bedroom, I readily awaited the alarm I had on my cell phone to go off. It was set to go off exactly at midnight, fittingly set to blaring the tune "Happy Birthday" which was a quite annoying, but necessary, part to the ritual. Happy birthday to _me_.

I finally spat out the toothpaste into the sink, rinsing out my mouth. I waited. My alarm should have gone off by now. It was about two minutes till midnight when I had headed to the bathroom. And it had definitely been two minutes. But all I could hear was the running of water from the faucet. I carefully twisted the faucet off, greeted with silence in its place.

I sighed. Bloody phone. Probably broke, conveniently of course, when I expected it work. How typical.

I stared up at my reflection in the colossal mirror in front of me. Large, chocolate brown eyes stared back.

"Happy birthday," I mouthed to my reflection. I felt silly, even as I said it, but I felt _someone_ had to tell myself "happy birthday," because it certainly wasn't going to be anybody at school. Even if I was just saying it to myself.

And then something not-so-ordinary occurred.

Slowly but quite unexpectedly, I watched in horror as my lips curved up into a humorless smile in my reflection. It was actually more like a smirk. In the mirror, I observed eyes that bore into me, as if probing through my very soul. These eyes were wild, very much unlike my passive ones. The eyes looked maniacal and…_hungry_.

Clearly, the face that stole my reflection was somehow not mine. I mean, it was still my body, but I am not possible of such a malevolent facial expression. If looks could kill, I would be dead. By my own reflection, nonetheless!

I felt my heart rise up to my throat, blinking rapidly in hopes of diminishing the image in front of me. Perhaps it was a hallucination of some sort. Can you hallucinate if you're tired enough?

As if to confirm that no, there was not a mirage before me, that it _was_ a reality, I felt my lips part, as if to say something.

No, no, no. This wasn't happening. How?! I was not doing this! Despite my effort to close my mouth, it still remained slightly agape, ignoring my will.

I watched as my head tilted to the side, deliberately. A noise that I could hardly recognize as mine emitted from my throat, sounding like the faint rumble of a car engine and then quickly revving up to a deep-throated laughter. How was such a blood-freezing sound capable of coming from _me_?

What was going _on_?!

"_Ryou, is it?"_ my unnaturally arrogant voice drawled. I wouldn't have believed that someone was talking through me if I hadn't seen my own reflection betray me.

The strange phenomenon that was taking place in my body continued to proceed as another half-crazed laughter shook throughout my entire body.

Always a believer in the supernatural, I promptly concluded that there must be some kind of evil spirit that decided to plant itself in my body. But why me? Where did it come from?

And then I remembered the present my father had given me. The ring. I glanced down at my chest in awe, noticing that the necklace that hung around my neck was glowing as brightly as the sun, nearly blinding me, even though it remained hidden beneath my button-up shirt. How had I not seen that before? Oh, yeah. Maybe if I had not been so freaked out by my involuntary body movements I would have taken that detail into account!

The spirit inhabiting me decided to say something very strange at that moment. I didn't understand it then, but believe me, it's all too clear now:

"_I choose you."_

I stared at the sneering lips that were not mine. I wanted to say, "Who are you? What do you mean?" but my lips would not obey me. They would from that point on submit to its new owner.

Without another moment's notice, bolts of pain shot through me, setting my nervous system into panic mode. All I could feel at that point were the waves of pain that crashed over my body, refusing to be put to rest. Like electrical shocks, flashes of agony zipped up and down my arms, legs, and everything else in between. It all happened so fast, I barely had the chance to react.

Why did I not have control of my body, and yet, I could still feel the pain? It was unbearable. What was happening to me?

Despite the crazed facial expression that was unwillingly plastered on my face, I managed to force my eyes to look down. Greeting them was a sea of red. Pouring into the sink, spilling onto the tile floor, somehow splashing onto the mirror, was blood.

The smell of it made me so nauseous. It smelled like rusty metal. It smelled like wetness. It smelled like _fear_.

Where was it all coming from? _I_ couldn't possibly be the source of it all….right?

Observing that the majority of burgundy fluid was flowing down my chest, trailing down my abdomen and staining my denim jeans, I realized that my previous thoughts were wrong. It _was_ coming from me.

I wore a white shirt that day. Like a virus, the blood intermingled with the pure white fibers, forever corrupting its clean color.

I realized that I was finally able to gain control of my body when I felt my entire being shaking like a leaf blowing in a hurricane. With trembling hands, I unbuttoned my shirt and checked the damage.

Understand that I had never seen something so vile, so disturbing, in my life. Understand also, that I had never been so terrified. And of course, understand that ignorance, unfortunately, is the greatest tool to fuel fear into a heart. And, as an ignorant person with not the slightest idea as to what was going on, I could not have been more horrified.

So when I tell you that, upon viewing the millennium ring which was literally merged into my chest, with its golden spikes plummeting through my torn skin like prying fingers, I _passed out_, please do not think anything less of me.

Ask yourself, "if I had a possessed Egyptian relic taking possession of my body, and it permanently took root in my chest, mangling it the process, what would I do?" I would like to know _one person_ who can honestly attest to the fact that he or she would be perfectly all right with it. I would like to know one person who _wouldn't_ pass out.

Goodbye, dreams. Goodbye, world. Goodbye, grip on reality. That day was the first of many consecutive days when I didn't have complete control of my body. Soon enough, I would even lose my grip on time, knowing where I was, or what I was doing. My life became the sacrifice, and some vindictive demonic spirit was reliving his.

There was one thing I am quite proud of, though.

At least I didn't scream. 


	2. A Little History Lesson

Ryou's Story

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

Author's Note: Some may object to this, but I find that Bakura is portrayed as a rather flat character in YGO. I'm writing this chapter to give Bakura some background, so he seems more tangible, more believable as a character in this story. It's much easier to sympathize when you realize that a person has a past, let alone a dark one.

Chapter Two- A Little History Lesson

I had once made a comment regarding my upbringing. You know, why I'm not exactly what one would consider to be a "normal" teenager. Why I fail to fit in.

My native country is in Britain. I was born in London, into an upper-scale family. Specifically, we lived on Knightsbridge road, just west of central London. Would you believe my family was one of the elite? We were very well off, which would be apparent to anyone who might be familiar with the miniscule strip that is Knightsbridge road—only the wealthiest reside there. It was my mother who came from a high class family, who was a member of quite a few country clubs and indulged in all the luxuries many people wouldn't dare to dream of. Truthfully, the details are a bit foggy, because I don't really remember much of my mother, you see. I had only lived with her for perhaps three, maybe four years.

Now as for my father, he was not so fortunate. Like the majority of the population, he fell roughly into middle-class rankings. He lived comfortably, yet he wouldn't be making plans for a trip to Greece anytime soon, either. To put it bluntly, he was not who my mother's parents would have chosen to be her husband.

What set him apart from the rest however, was his avid determination to get what he wanted. According to my father, in one of the limited stories he had enlightened me with, he wouldn't stop courting my mother "until there was no way she _couldn't_ say no. She would have gone crazy if she had kept up with my begging much longer." Poor mother. With persistence like _that_, she wasn't left with much of a choice, now was she?

But in all fairness, I will attest to the fact that my father was quite handsome in his day. At least, judging from the pictures. He had a unique shade of blue eyes that was comparable to a friend of mine's today, Anzu, only they had flecks of gold in them. In some pictures I have seen, despite how they have worn and wrinkled with age, I could still see how those eyes must have sparkled when happy.

Notice I am speaking in past tense. And truthfully, it's not because my father's eyes had miraculously changed color, it's because I haven't seen his eyes in the _longest _time. We haven't made eye contact with one another for years.

He just won't look at me.

Even when we talk, Father just keeps his eyes averted. Is it because he is ashamed of me? Is it because I refuse to follow in my father's footsteps to become an archaeologist just like him? Or maybe, is it because I am a miserable reminder of his past…?

It could be because of his guilt. Perhaps he is guilty that he barely sees me once a month. Recently it had been less than that. As I had mentioned, he was gone literally all summer, digging away at decomposing tombs and salvaging junk.

I feel that my father's chosen career is perfectly ideal for him. It suits him. Archaeologists make a living off of sifting through the past, making sense of extinct societies. Many of them, such as my father, can even translate dead languages, and find meaning in what people like me only see as decaying debris.

But you see, that's as far as my father goes. He's stuck in the past, solving the mysteries of ancient times. I never said he could solve the mysteries of today.

He can't figure me out- that much I know for sure. Who am I? Where did I come from? Sometimes I feel he can't believe that I am his son. I suppose the separation from his wife, in addition to losing my sister, Amane, was too much for him to handle…

As I have said, my father is a victim of the past. He takes comfort in reliving the better days of his life, preferring to ignore the issues that stare him blatantly in the face today. And allegedly, he would not have it another way.

Sometimes, there are demons that are too mountainous, too frightening, to address directly.

There is so much that I feel I need to explain. I have never told my past to anyone before. I feel it's because no one cares. My darker half has conditioned me to feel this way, but I know I must resist the urge to remain silent and at least _write_ this down, since no one will listen to me.

So I will continue with the telling of my story, rather than to allow myself to get distracted by my father's shortcomings.

I feel the need to explain a little more about my mother. As I had briefly mentioned, she was a part of upper-class society. She literally had everything she could hope for. The best clothes, jewelry, education… the best of _anything_, really. And my mother, I think, was quite beautiful. Unlike those who dye their hair blond, my mother's hair was naturally golden. It was a very light blond, almost white, reminding me of the morning sun. (Considering that my father's hair is a sandy brown and my mother's is essentially blond, I have no clue why my hair has no pigment in it at all…premature aging? It wouldn't be so surprising. I _feel_ old, with the cursed spirit in the ring weighing me down)

I wouldn't have believed that the woman who clutched onto my father's arm in the only picture I have of my parents was my mother if we did not share the same eyes. I realize that most people can't recognize a resemblance between themselves and family, but that would probably be because they have the benefit of seeing them every day. I however, haven't experienced such a privilege. Whenever I stare at that picture of my parents, I always notice my mother's warm chestnut brown eyes returning my gaze. She looked kind.

So of course the question is raised: why is my mother no longer in my life? What happened to her?

Ironic, isn't it, that such wealth that my mother enjoyed comes at such a high price.

As I have previously mentioned, my grandparents (sounds strange to say) did not approve of my father. And they were absolutely resentful that out of all the men my mother could have had, she chose an ordinary, lower-middle class _commoner_. Truth is, they already had a gentleman waiting to court my mother, one who was rich, well-known, and of course, even more rich. Did I mention he was rich?

This man's name was Magnus Cleaver. According to Father, he was talented at almost anything: sports, card games, debate, charming people with his words. However, there was one thing that this gentleman needed improvement on- controlling his temper. I was told that Mr. Cleaver was a sort of a "rageaholic," and took no mercy to any soul who evoked his wrath. (Actually, this sounds very much like my darker half.)

Now how do you suppose my fair-hearted mother would have felt about this?

My grandparents were blind (I'd say, they _still_ are). They failed to see how much of a danger they would be putting their daughter in if she had married Magnus Cleaver. Instead, all they could see was money. Lots of it. As a major determining factor, Mr. Cleaver often invited my grandparents to social events at the wealthiest country clubs. And to maniac social-climbers, my grandparents were ecstatic.

And yet, despite such persuasion, my mother was not moved. I would like to think that, as a woman with a good head on her shoulders, she saw Mr. Cleaver for what he was worth: behind the money, essentially nothing. So she turned her head the other way and decided to marry my father instead.

In the eyes of society, big mistake. In doing so, not only did my grandparents disown her, she officially put herself out of Mr. Cleaver's good graces. And I word this in the most euphemistic way possible because, not too much later in my mother's future, this would ultimately come back to haunt her.

Upon the excommunication from my grandparents, my mother and father decided to move to a quieter location in Britain, opting for a small town to settle down in. Living in a world that was fast-paced and superficial, I completely understand my mother's desire to go more suburban.

With my father just getting a job from a nearby cultural resource management firm as a field supervisor, my parents lived comfortably. And my mother, of course, still had a considerable amount of money stashed away under her name. Together, my parents lived hidden from a world full of corruption, quite happily I might add, for about three to four years. During this time, my sister and I were born, but I'm not writing this to address the miracle of life.

I'm here to address how my parents' lives had been brutally destroyed, all within the premises of about an hour.

My father had been away on another one of his trips, this time to a site in Egypt. The British company he worked under, which had an alliance with a firm in Egypt, had recently discovered an uncorrupted, _untouched_, tomb and they were more than eager to send their representatives to work. This was the first time that my father had ventured out to Egypt, as opposed to a nearby site in Britain. It was then that he fell in love with the country, and would volunteer to continue working in Egypt for many years later.

So that left my mother alone, with me at the age of three (or was it four?) and my newly-born sister of six months.

As the story had been told to me, I am under the assumption that both my sister and I were sleeping away as the most vile, most detestable thing happened to my unsuspecting mother.

Do you remember Mr. Cleaver? He was notorious for his temper. His thirst for vindication could never be satiated until he could act upon his rage. He was apparently still angered over the fact that my mother rejected him. In his ignorant eyes, he probably wondered how someone did _not_ want to marry him…if not for his "dashing" good looks, his "charm," then for his money.

And sometimes, those who have lived their lives getting everything they could ever want simply cannot take "no" for an answer.

How he managed to find my parent's humble home, I do not know. How he managed to find out when my father would be gone, I also do not know.

And how that _bastard_ could be so inhumane when he brutally murdered my mother, I _do not know_.

But I do know this: if that demon had even the slightest bit of humanity and had not killed my mother, perhaps I would have still had a chance for a normal life. Undoubtedly, my parents would have still been together. My father would not have wallowed in his grief to the point of becoming a workaholic. He would not have neglected both me and my sister.

He wouldn't have felt so guilty about his consistent absence away from me…because he would not have left as often. If my mother were still there, he would be too. And in turn, my father would have felt no need to bring the cursed millennium ring to me.

The details as to how my mother died are gruesome. For a so-called gentleman on the top of the social food-chain, I would say Magnus Cleaver pulled off the murder comparable to the skill of someone who had lived in the slums all his life.

My mother had been outside tending to the small garden in the front of the house. Completely unaware and lost in her world of botanical beauty, it was then that Mr. Cleaver attacked.

I was told that she wore a white sundress the day that she died. When the police filed the report, it was noted how her dress was completely stained with the very soil she was tending to, in addition to her own blood. Whenever I think of this, I can't help but compare this to how my white shirt had been stained in blood the day the ring took possession of me. I can't help but think that in a way, I had died too.

From what little information I had managed to squeeze from my father, my mother was dragged into her own cramped garden shed and viciously raped. In the end, I wished I had not asked my father about that part because it still makes me nauseous to even fathom such a bloody death. But it is my responsibility to understand how my mother died and why, so I suppose I had no choice.

There is more to the story, though. After her body had been violated, it was then that the monster had slit her throat. I only hope that her death came quickly after that.

To this day, I still cannot wrap my head around the extents to human cruelty. Is there even a limit to the madness? Are we all creatures of temptation, destined or programmed to desire only evil deeds? Does pure benevolence even exist? I fear the answer is no…

Neighbors who had heard the screaming called the police too late. Why they personally failed to act themselves while my mother still had a fighting chance for survival, I do not know. Actually, I feel there is a lot I do not know. For instance, why did Magnus Cleaver only get sentenced to 30 years in prison? Weren't his actions horrible enough to bestow him the death penalty? I don't care that Britain no longer endorses such a punishment- doesn't he _deserve_ it? He destroyed an entire family's life without a second thought. To think that now, in a little under 20 years, that horrible man will have the right to walk the streets again. And I can guarantee you, women and men alike will still desire his company, all because of money….

Upon the phone call from the police, my father immediately rushed home, perhaps somehow believing that it was only a cruel joke being pulled on him. After all, how often do these things happen? What kind of maniac plots out the death of the woman who rejected him, years later?

My father was in complete and utter disbelief, even to the day that the funeral commenced. As it can be expected, not many showed up for my mother's death. She was excommunicated from her own rich world after all. Many refused to acknowledge her existence. To be sure, it makes me completely sick to think that so many people can lose all sense of compassion over the superficial things in life. Cars. Jewelry. Clothing. Shoes. Resorts. VIP rooms, glasses of champagne, and fifty-dollars-a-bite _hors d'oeuvres_. Everything that matters to so many people is all materialistic.

But don't they know? It can all go away with the blink of an eye. Perhaps I see this more than anyone else because of my unusual circumstances. Everything that I had treasured before has been trashed or corrupted one way or another by the demon of the millennium ring. I quickly came to realize that most things tangible are not worth living for. To think otherwise, I would go insane.

Going back to my father, he was always one to ignore the skeletons in his closet. Although I only vaguely remember attending my mother's funeral service on that cold autumn day, I remember my father's strange reaction to it even more.

He pretended that my mother was still alive. He carried on through life as if everything were the same, ensuring that I kept up with all the things my mother had wanted me to excel in, such as piano lessons, language classes and regular tutoring. Even at my very young age, my mother wanted to treat me as if I still had the same opportunities as any wealthy child, and of course only wanted the best. Although I detested all the lessons I was bogged down with earlier on, I very much appreciate it now. For example, had I not learned Japanese at such an early age, could my father and I have really survived when we moved to Japan?

But it took years for my father to even acknowledge that my mother was dead. He would refer to her in the present tense and would say odd things such as, "your mother wants you to get ready for bed now." I realize now that he was emotionally unstable at the time, and shudder at the thought that he was forced to raise both me and my sister while still balancing his work life. Who can effectively deal with that when your spouse just died?

He did have help, though. While away on his longer trips to different sites, he would hire several "nannies," if you would prefer to call them that, to watch over my sister and I. Really though, they were more like tutors to me. They were paid handsomely, thanks to the money under my mother's name, to enlighten me on topics that many children haven't even heard of at my age. I quickly learned to become fluent in several languages, primarily focusing on English, Spanish, Arabic and Japanese. It was an odd combination. But my father insisted that I master the languages of countries that fostered the largest CRM firms in order to live the life of a successful archaeologist (which is a contradiction because there _isn't_ such a thing. I believe he was hoping that I would magically move up from a field technician to the director of a CRM firm or something). Realize that even then, my father had my future mapped out for me.

I did enjoy some aspects to the 24/7 cram session of all knowledge, however. For instance, I loved learning how to play the piano. Learning to master any musical instrument is a long and arduous road of practicing and patience, but in the end I believe it is very much worth it. What better way is there to express yourself than to communicate through music?

My mother didn't bring much from her old life back into her newer one in the suburbs, but there was one thing that she could not leave behind: her grand piano. Its impressive size and superior quality granted this instrument the richest sound known to the human ear. I have yet to hear something more beautiful than every note that graces the piano my mother used to play. Even at my young age, as I would sit down to practice at the instruction of my tutors, I would appreciate the piano for its exceptional beauty…perhaps even more so because of my mother's absence. Is it not true that absence makes the heart grow fonder?

By the time I had grown old enough to play simple melodies on the piano with a certain degree of expertise, my sister was beginning to branch out on her own talents as well.

Amane was an artist at heart. It all started with a basic box of crayons. Given to her as a means of distraction from bothering the nannies, she began to scribble out all kinds of shapes and objects. The unrecognizable doodles of a child soon transformed into the coherent etchings of an artist with vision.

Soon crayons would not suffice. So the nannies more than happily granted Amane with a child-friendly paint set, consisting of around ten colors. With this set, my sister would set out to paint anything her critical eyes would scan over, no matter how trivial. Nothing was too small to not be considered for a painting.

I do not recall everything my talented sister had subjected to her artistic vision, for my father eventually burned her artwork you see, but I do remember one that was my favorite. There was an apple tree that resided near the back of my old house, fairly aged but sturdy and strong nonetheless. It used to bear the most delicious and juicy red apples, with each bite like an explosion of tangy and sugar-sweet flavor. My sister and I used to sit under the tree's long shadow in the lazy afternoons of autumn and indulge in every apple that would come into our limited reach. I distinctly remember my sister taking a large bite out of a lollipop-red apple with its sugary juice streaming down one side of her mouth. It was a comical sight really, but I'm sure I looked no less enthusiastic.

And how happy those eyes were! They were so carefree yet full of mirth. I can still see the sparkle in her ocean blue eyes now. Unlike me, she was ever the optimist.

Her idealistic nature shone through at its best when she painted what turned out to be my favorite piece that she ever completed. It was of the apple tree that we always sat under together, the same one where we would spend many hours climbing through its thick branches. The year that she painted it, the old tree finally failed to produce any fruit and stood lonely in the backyard, completely barren. The leaves were just starting to turn color, as even a few began to fall off its branches, making the lack of apples even more apparent. I was dismayed by the tree's "poor health," fearful that it would eventually die. There was obviously something that was eating away at its core, rotting the tree from the inside out from disease. It would be a slow, but inevitable, death.

Amane had given me her painting when she had finished it, and I was overjoyed. True to reality, the apple tree that was put to life on paper lacked the fruit that should have graced its branches. However, hidden amongst the blotches of green and the faintest hint of orange leaves, was a tiny red splotch. My sister had painted a single apple on the dying tree.

"Even in death there can be life," my sister had explained upon giving me her cherished painting. She was so young. How could she possibly be so insightful, seeing what so many adults still cannot?

It was a quote that I would remember, even today, to help bring my weary mind at ease. Above anything, this memory gave me hope.

Even when my hopes and dreams crash and burn as easily as they come, I desperately will continue to cling onto the wise words of my little sister.

Considering how unexpectedly my mother's death came, I should not have been the least surprised when Amane's time on this earth had come to an end as well.

She was being taken to one of her art lessons. One of my nannies saw my sister's potential and felt that she should expand on her talents. It was a dark and cloudy day, with thunderstorms threatening to occur at a moment's notice. The air was cool and still, to the point where one's breath could easily be seen as a puff of vapor. When she left for her art lesson that day, we barely gave one another much of a goodbye, always assuming there would be a next time.

I have learned to never assume.

As expected, my sister died in a car accident. There was a drunken man speeding down the road, failing to process that a red traffic light screamed "STOP!" with its harsh unforgiving glare. As the nanny drove past the intersection, the drunk's car crashed head-on into hers, smashing the back seat and trunk of the nanny's car entirely.

I am told that my sister died immediately. At least the Angel of Death granted her a quick release from the excruciating pain that must have been inflicted on her small body.

Now as for the drunk driver's death, I only can hope that it was slow and unrelenting.

The nanny who had driven the car survived. Unfortunately, she was so shaken by the collision that she resigned from her job as my caretaker. She was a kind woman, and I only hope that she had the strength to eventually forgive herself. But since that day, I never saw her again.

My sister's death brought my father's job assignment to an abrupt close yet again. It was when he finally made it home, and saw my agonized face, that I saw him cry for the first time. I watched him while he sank down to his knees, covered his face with his calloused working man's hands, as tears of pure grief rolled down his aged face.

I believe it was that day when it finally registered that he no longer had a family. True, he still had me, but taking one look at my eyes would indicate to anyone that I might as well be dead anyway. That spark of youth was long gone, replaced instead with a passive gaze that would stay with me even now.

From early on I was conditioned to stop caring.

Even in my father's grief, when he resolved to burn everything that reminded him of my sister, including the painting she had given to _me_, I couldn't help but look on with an inert acceptance.

This was _my_ life, and I knew it was never going to get any better. It would be in my best interest to just stop asking _why_ and to simply let it happen.

Have I felt truly happy since the day Amane died? Honestly, no. If I did, I can't remember. She was really all I had left in this world of black and white. My father was never home and the nannies were just doing their job. My mother was dead, now my sister was dead, so what did that leave me?

Nothing.

So that day when the spirit of the ring told me, "I choose you," I now know why.

Because only a person without a past, present or future without any connection to the world could serve as an adequate vessel to the havoc that the spirit planned to inflict upon anyone within his reach.


	3. It's My Name

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: I just want to clarify again- there will definitely be some deviation from Ryou's true origin in the manga vs. what I'm writing. I want to stick to the real story as much as possible, but it wouldn't be much of a story if everything were exactly the same, right…?

Chapter 3- It's My Name

My father and I had moved seven times before we finally settled down in a random city of Japan.

It was called Domino City, also known as gamers' central. This is also where I attended school, and met Yuugi, Jounouchi, Anzu, Honda and many other individuals who had made brief appearances in my life.

But before I established myself in my newest settings, I was wholly terrified when I found out I would be thrown into a Japanese school halfway through the first semester. If I couldn't make any friends in my home country, how could I in a foreign one? But my father didn't care.

Ever since my mother and sister had passed away, my father dedicated himself completely to his work, completely willing to move whenever necessary. After all, he only had me to drag around, and I wasn't much of a complainer, despite the fact that fear would well up inside of me every time I became aware of my home's impermanence.

As one may guess, I didn't have many attachments to material items. Before I even had a chance to become familiar with where my things were in my room, I had to pack up again.

The only thing that I truly developed a fondness towards was my mother's grand piano. My father wanted to sell it, especially because it was always a struggle to move into our cramped apartments, but I refused to allow it.

It was the only thing I fought for. Clearly, in order to cope with my sister's and my mother's death, my father wanted to pretend as if they had never existed. I couldn't understand it; how could he make a living off of reviving ancient civilizations, yet refuse to let our deceased family remain in our hearts? My father wanted to eliminate everything that reminded him of our past.

So I let him. I even let him destroy all of Amane's paintings. But for some reason, I would not allow him to sell away that piano. Maybe it was because it was the only memory I had left of my mother, the only piece of evidence that I even had one to begin with.

Somewhere along this line of moving, my father had given me the millennium ring. As I had stated before, I believe it was because of his guilt for never being there for me. Too bad I never told him that after he had missed several Christmases, birthdays and other various holidays one was supposed to spend with _family_, I stopped caring.

Many seem to be under the impression that my father and I constantly switched homes and schools because of my millennium ring's doing. It is believed that the spirit would possess my body, put everyone within a ten-foot radius into a coma, and then burn down a school. Or so Yuugi and his friends thought.

My darker half isn't so careless. While it is true that the malevolent spirit had a penchant for using my favorite RPG as a means of capturing souls, he did it in such an inconspicuous way that no one would ever suspect that it was my doing (or rather, the item around my neck's doing). And besides, where would be the evidence? The spirit got rather creative in trapping souls; he conveniently placed them into RPG figurines. While the bodies of these souls would still exist, their souls would literally be encased into inanimate objects. On the surface, it looked like the people who were the victims to the spirit's evil ways had simply fallen into a coma.

I had no clue how the spirit was able to do it; the mere idea of such a feat was so ethereal, so unbelievable, who would have thought that my RPG game board was the home to the lost souls?

At first I felt complete and utter dismay that it was ultimately my body that was the vessel to such misfortune, but then I began to envy those souls. By no means am I endorsing my darker half's unforgivable behavior; I'm just recognizing that sometimes, being trapped into a figurine could be more pleasant than living in this world. To not feel anything, to not have to _think_, what a sweet release that would be for me!

And like a true thief who is a master at his craft, my darker half managed to pilfer around twelve souls without having a single finger point at me in accusation.

So really, the fact that my father was constantly on the move for his job was more of a convenience to me than one would think, for it made it infinitely easier for the spirit to satiate his sadistic appetite. And when the spirit was satisfied, that made my life infinitely easier as well. I will get to that part later, though.

My father and I ultimately moved to Japan- and have stayed there for longer than any other residence I have settled in- because there was a growing firm that needed more permanent employees. Namely, those with more experience. Being that my father had been immersed in his career for many years, he was finally progressing from a field supervisor to the director of his sector of the firm. His sector existed specifically to continue investigating the ruins of Egypt, and my father finally had the power to sit behind an office desk and conduct the action. For my father, this job offer was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; he couldn't pass it up.

So yet again, I found myself packing up what little I had and moved to Japan.

To be honest, although I was terrified to move to a foreign country- my Japanese was certainly not perfect after all- I was also relieved.

I always believed that eventually, people would recognize that I was the culprit to all the mysterious occurrences that took place while I had been in Britain.

So that is how the country I was born in never quite seemed like my home again.

To clarify, living in Japan never felt like home either. The brutal and honest truth is, if you look foreign, you will always be treated as such. There's no getting around it.

My stark-white hair and my undeniable accent did not help. And, there are just so many _rules_ in Japan. My father and I both had trouble becoming familiar with them.

For instance, it took me about a month to accept the fact that I could no longer use a fork (at least if I didn't want to draw attention to myself), wear shoes in a house, or address people by their first name. The latter especially bothered me because I could only call people by their first name if I knew them well enough. Which was essentially no one. Likewise, no one knew me well enough to call me "Ryou."It was a painful reminder that I wasn't connected to the world.

And that's why it bothered me so much when the spirit of the millennium ring insisted on being called "Bakura": where was the distinction between me and my other half? There wasn't one.

And now that I have explained myself, hopefully it can be understood why from this point on, I will refer to the spirit of the ring as "Nameless." I will not call him by _my_ name. Nor will I ever.

I don't care what Yuugi and his friends think, the spirit of the ring's name is _not_ Bakura. He just claimed that it was as a means to steal away my identity, to make me lose hope of being recognized as a separate individual.

Is everyone really so dense? Does "Bakura" honestly sound like an Egyptian name? He is a spirit who inhabits an artifact from ancient_ Egypt_, for the love of rational thinking.

I suspect that everyone knows this but does not bother to make the distinction. Even Yuugi, who is a victim of a spirit's will himself, sees me as just a vessel as well.

While it is true that Yuugi and his friends had made an honest effort to be my friend upon my arrival at Domino High, ever since that one incident where Nameless revealed himself as a threat who inhabited my body, things haven't been the same. From that point on, they have been carefully avoiding me, as if they fear I will unexpectedly transform into my darker half or worse…

They probably fear that I am _working_ with him.

So badly I want to shake every person who has claimed to be my friend and say, "My name is Ryou. I am one of your classmates. I used to have a family, and I have interests, too. I like to play the piano, I like to read, I like to play games! My biggest hope is to have a future."

But I know, I absolutely _know_, that if I were to say such a thing, whoever would be on the receiving end of this would give me the blankest stare; would anybody even have an idea what I am talking about?

My "friends" would probably be like, "What? What are you talking about Bakura? Of course you have a future. Doesn't everybody?"

But hasn't anyone figured it out yet?

As long as I am the puppet to Nameless's strings, I will _never_ have a future.

I will always wake up, not knowing where I am, or have any idea what Nameless has done while taking control of my body. I won't have a clue as to when the last time I ate was, or when I last went to school.

At first, I didn't have the faintest idea regarding what Nameless did while he possessed me, but one day, I finally became aware of how horrible he could really be.

It was that day when my spirit had finally been broken.


	4. Potential Salvation

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: There are some tense changes here, from the past when Ryou is recalling the events, and present, when he offers his opinion. Or, when he refers to a character, the tense may switch to present…because the characters are alive while Ryou mentions them. Sorry if it sounds awkward, I wasn't sure how else to word it….

Chapter Four: Potential Salvation

You know how the villain of a horror movie always manages to resurrect himself, no matter how many times he is beaten, shot, _destroyed_?

That is _exactly_ how Nameless is.

His soul could be torn to pieces and sent to the Shadow Realm, but I'm telling you, he would still survive.

He claims it is because he _is_ the darkness. And the darkness is everywhere. Even in a room lit by a thousand light bulbs, there will always be a shadow.

That shadow, apparently, is the spirit who stole my identity.

It makes no sense. However, this is the same spirit who has the power to _rip_ someone's soul away and store it into a board game piece, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

I refuse to fully acknowledge what this means. Since Nameless cannot die, and simply will not go away on his own, doesn't that mean he will haunt me forever…?

Will there ever be a day where I will wake up and know what I did the night before? Will there ever be a time where I feel in control? Will there ever be a point in my life where I can choose to do as I please?

Nameless will never go away on his own. He has a second shot at life, and I am his sacrifice, his means of accomplishing that. He will _never_-

No. I can't think of that right now. If I don't force myself to believe that there is a light at the end of this tunnel, then quite frankly, I will go mad.

There was a phase in my life, earlier on, where I teetered on the brink of insanity. The instable nature of my life was becoming too much; it was to the point where I was considering suicide as an option.

It was a rash thought, I know, but what choice did I have?

There weren't too many options I was granted with when I laid them out.

I could either: a.) Allow the spirit to steal control of my body, b.) Take "control" back through choosing to commit suicide (ironically enough), or c.) Depend on a wildcard.

At the time, I knew I didn't want to completely submit to the spirit- I was too optimistic then. And I certainly wasn't counting on a "wildcard" phenomenon to take place either- meaning, something out-of-the-ordinary would occur and free me. What, or should I say _who_, would? So that left me with my last choice, simply through process of elimination, which swayed me towards suicide. It seemed rational at the time. So I began to plot out my death, albeit halfheartedly.

But then, something "out-of-the-ordinary" _did_ occur.

It was around the first few days that I had met Yuugi and his friends. As I had brought up before, they actually wanted me to be a part of their close-knit group. I'm not sure what they saw in me, but rest assured, things have definitely changed the day they visited me, after my absence from school. Missing school in Japan is a much more grave offense than it would be in Britain- it rarely occurred unless something really serious was going on. So, like any good group of friends would, Yuugi, Anzu, Jounouchi and Honda ventured to my apartment to check up on me.

I really wish they hadn't.

Why did I miss school that day? Although I couldn't say it was because of something fatal or outlandish, I still had a pretty good reason. As always, Nameless wanted to wreak havoc upon my new school, checking out his newest victims. But his plans quickly changed the moment he first laid eyes on Yuugi.

Yuugi Mutou is not an ordinary teenager. For starters, his hair is indescribably unusual. Comparable to a cartoon star, his hair shoots out into five primary directions, tinged with a crimson red. His golden blond bangs contrast sharply with his otherwise ebony hair and…well, they _defy gravity_. I would have naturally assumed that Yuugi went through a bottle of hair gel a day, but then I realized that no amount of product could keep so much hair up. And Yuugi is so low maintenance, I highly doubt he even looks in the mirror before going to school.

Aside from his actual appearance, there was something even more unusual that caught Nameless's attention. It was what he wore around his neck.

Hanging loosely from around Yuugi's neck glinted a large golden pyramid. To the typical person, it would appear to be an obnoxious fashion statement. But for me, I know much better.

The material from which it was made, the eye symbol that resided near the center…yes, whatever it was, its origin was from the same place as my millennium ring.

And Nameless knew it too.

It was at that moment when Nameless had one of his first conversations with me.

"_Vessel, listen…see that boy over there? The one with that pendant hanging around his neck."_

Although I never really talked with the spirit before, I wasn't surprised to hear from him. I could easily sense his emotional unrest the second I stepped into the classroom. Sharing the same mind made it quite easy to intuit the other's intentions.

"_Yes..."_ I tentatively thought. I may have known he would be talking to me, but I never said I wouldn't be terrified.

"_I want you to have him over. I don't care what you tell him. Just bring him to your apartment. It appears he has something that I want…" _

One look at Yuugi's "necklace" gave me an easy indicator of the spirit's intentions. And another look at the way Yuugi would grasp onto it also told me he would not willingly give it up (I wasn't sure why, though...how happy I would be to dispose of my own ancient artifact!).

So clearly, Nameless would have to take away the pyramid-like object away by force.

"_You're not going to put him into a coma too, are you? I-I just got here!" _

"_Are you challenging me, Vessel?" _I could easily hear the threat in the spirit's voice.

After a moment of silence on my part, Nameless's voice transitioned back to persuasive. _"Now then. I would encourage you to 'make friends' with that boy and have him over. I may or may not harm him, depending on his cooperation level…"_ He then broke into a malicious chuckle, fading out of my head and retreating back into his ring.

Mind you, all of this happened while I was first being introduced to the class. So that blank expression that everyone still makes fun of me for came from this very moment when the spirit was conceding his plan to me. Girls may have perceived it as a devil-may-care-attitude, but the guys…they just saw me as a spastic moron.

Even still, the moment class concluded, Jounouchi, whose seat was next to mine, offered to introduce his friends to me in his usual amiable manner. It was time for lunch, leaving the teen in no hurry to snatch a conversation.

"Hey…Bakura, isn't it? It's great to meet you! I know you're new here so do you wanna meet my buddies?" I was so impressed by his straightforwardness. I could never go up to someone and pretty much say, "Hi! Let's be friends!" Rejection seemed to gravitate towards me, and I'd rather not put my theory to the test.

"Well, sure- who are your friends?"

Jounouchi let a pleased grin spread across his face like wildfire before gesturing over to the other end of the classroom. "Here. I'll show you." And at that, he all but dragged me over to his clique.

"Bakura, this is Honda," Honda gave me a nod in acknowledgment, "Anzu," Anzu smiled at me in a truly genuine way (and what pretty eyes-!), "and Yuugi."

I watched as Yuugi energetically waved at me from his desk. His mysterious amethyst orbs gazed up at me with interest, and clearly with delight too. Undoubtedly, he was just as thrilled to make a friend as I was, although I would never dare show or admit to such enthusiasm. Why give Nameless any more clues to destroying my life?

It was painfully ironic, how Yuugi was the one that Nameless wanted to target. If all went according to the spirit's plan, surely I would lose Yuugi's friendship as well as the rest of the group's.

Despite the damper to my thoughts, I put on the most cheerful smile I could muster. "It really is so nice to meet you all. This is such a wonderful school. Everyone has been so welcoming here." And it was true. Ever since I set foot into the building, _swarms_ of girls gathered around me, more than happily showing me around the premises.

I hadn't the slightest idea why.

That sort of attention made me nervous.

Before I could linger on my thoughts, I was broken out of them by a feminine voice. "Sorry- you've probably been asked this a lot today. I've noticed that you have an accent. Where are you from?"

Glancing to my right, my eyes met up with brilliant cerulean ones. I realized the only girl in the group-Anzu- was the owner to the voice. Long thick lashes bordered those entrancing eyes, and I found myself nearly speechless while struggling to remember my Japanese.

"E-England…I'm from England," I finally managed to stammer out. I could easily feel my heart hammering away inside my ribcage, unsettled by the intensity by which Anzu's eyes stared at me.

I was broken out of my spell when I heard a book crash to the ground. I looked down to see Yuugi hastily bending over to pick up his math book.

"Sorry! That was really loud, wasn't it? These desks are just so small…." Yuugi quickly rearranged the objects on his desk. He appeared to be flustered. "So, um, Bakura, where did you get that necklace from? It looks a lot like my puzzle."

I remember staring at Yuugi in bewilderment before it finally became overwhelmingly obvious that he had stronger feelings for Anzu than friendship. His reddened face practically screamed that he suffered from a high school crush.

I felt awkward then, uncomfortable with the attention Anzu had given me moments ago. I decided to go along with the topic change. "You mean this ring? My father had given it to me while on a trip to Egypt-"

"Really?! My grandpa was in Egypt too when he gave me my puzzle! Well, it wasn't _exactly_ a completed puzzle at first, but I managed to assemble it…."

I listened while Yuugi rambled on about his struggle to complete the puzzle, evidently quite pleased with himself, and evidently forgetting about that look Anzu had given me earlier.

Now that I think about it, I wish my ring was as difficult to put together as Yuugi's puzzle- surely I would have just given up and left it on a dusty shelf in a storage room.

But when are things ever so simple…?

Somewhere along Yuugi's very extended monologue, I managed to pick up on something that caught my attention.

"So your grandfather owns a game shop?"

I said this essentially while Yuugi was in the midst of his narration, but he just smiled and answered me anyway. "Yup! It's doing so well right now, with the explosion of all these new games that are coming out. Do you like games, Bakura?"

I couldn't help myself as my lips curved slightly upwards. "Why yes, I love games very much. Great way to pass the time, you know? I'm a particular fan of RPGs…'Monster World' is my favorite-"

"Oh I love that game! It's definitely one of the better ones, well, at least if you ask me." I always notice a spark in Yuugi's eyes whenever he speaks of games. He clearly has an extreme passion for them. Even to this day, I wonder if I ever had even a fraction of the enthusiasm for _anything_ that Yuugi had for his beloved games.

"So, uh, what is this 'Monster World'?" Jounouchi finally piped up, showing interest.

"It's probably like Dungeons and Dragons…you know, a nerd's game," Honda sniggered as he propped himself against his desk, arms folded.

Yuugi's chest puffed out at this. "It is _not_ a 'nerd's game'! It's about _war_- what's so nerdy about that?" Yuugi then paused at this, considering his thoughts. "…It _is_ sort of like Dungeons and Dragons though. It's an RPG that focuses on chance as a means to get the desired results. You use a set of die…"

Yuugi then proceeded to give the entire history of 'Monster World,' the rules, and trivia facts that even _I_ did not know. Jesus.

Despite my occasional zoning out from the conversation, I noticed how engaged Jounouchi, Anzu and even Honda were while listening to the teen talk of battling figurines. I almost laughed at the sight, until Jounouchi broke me out of my musings.

"Hey- why don't we all get together and play 'Monster World' together at Bakura's place? I'll bet he has a _huge_ game board! Wouldn't that be awesome, Bakura?" I could see the eagerness just brimming from Jounouchi's cappuccino-colored eyes. I knew he meant well, but that just made everything-

"_Too easy!"_ I heard Nameless laugh to himself in his malicious delight.

I suppressed the feeling of panic that rose from within me as three pairs of eyes stared at me expectantly.

"Um, i-it sounds like a wonderful idea, but you see…" I trailed off, unsure of what excuse I would use. I didn't want to give the impression that I was _rejecting_ them. It would probably break the fragile bond of friendship that was beginning to form between us.

Already I saw disappointment emerge from the groups' eyes. They certainly were interpreting it as rejection.

It was too much for me to handle. "People fall into comas whenever they come over to my apartment!" I hastily blurted out.

Pardon my language, but _shit_. I had no intention of being that honest.

Confusion replaced disappointment as the quartet inspected me disbelievingly.

"What do you mean, 'coma'…?" Honda asked me uncertainly.

Alarm bells were ringing loud in my head. I could sense Nameless's sudden awareness of the conversation I was having.

I could also feel the tips of the ring's spikes _ever so slightly_ poke into my skin. It was a warning.

It was enough to silence me. "Look. Forget I ever said anything. I-I just can't, okay? See you guys later," And at that, I swiftly turned on my heel and strode off in a hurried pace. I didn't bother looking back.

The spirit inside the ring remained surprisingly quiet until I rushed into the restroom as a feeble attempt to hide from my newly acquired friends. Much to my dismay, the restroom was empty. It was the perfect time for the spirit to communicate to me. I vaguely wondered if he was preparing to release his wrath on me or simply try to manipulate my actions again.

"_It would appear that you forgot to invite your little friends over to your apartment. Where are your manners, Vessel? They even asked to come over. "_

"_I thought you just wanted Yuugi over." _

"_Oh, but I did! Until it occurred to me that we could use some more game board pieces…"_

I cringed at Nameless's reference to 'we.' _"Please don't hurt them…they didn't do anything wrong. They're…they're my friends." _

I could hear a caustic laugh ringing throughout my ears. _"Foolish Vessel! You hardly know these people! We should get rid of them now, before they become too close to you. We both know how bad it is for you to become attached to anything in this world."_

In terror, I clutched onto a nearby sink for support as I felt my knees grow weak. I knew Nameless was being perfectly serious.

"_Who are you?!" _I finally yelled in my mind. _"What do you want with me? Why are you doing this?"_

I really wanted to know. What kind of spirit would choose to possess someone's body merely to capture souls and store them into inanimate objects? What could he possibly gain from it?

"_I believe that is none of your concern. Just do as I say. And if you don't…"_ The ring's spikes dug into me again at this point, _"Then I assume you know the consequences."_

I could feel my chest starting to bleed. The lethargic trails my blood would make down my body made me nauseous. Hastily, I unbuttoned my shirt to clean off the mess, hoping that my new school uniform hadn't been stained. I winced as I saw the damage done.

Ever since that one time the ring permanently attached itself to my body, my skin became much more susceptible to being broken open again. It was like a wound that would never heal.

My eyes welled up with uncontrollable tears at this point. My chest was throbbing in pain, although the ring didn't inflict too much damage. I was more hurt by what I knew I had to do to my new friends. Would there ever be an end to the madness?

"_Now now, little Ryou, don't upset yourself too much. I grant wishes too, you know. Consider it as my 'rent' to reside in your body."_ I ignored the taunting cackle as I finally buttoned up my shirt again. I was in too much dismay to ask the spirit what wishes he exactly planned on fulfilling.

It was as if he had read my thoughts as he continued. _"Do you remember when you had your old 'friends' over and played your childish games with them? You were thinking, 'I wish this could last forever' and guess what? I made that happen. Because of me, they will forever be a part of your favorite game. You should be thanking me…" _

A sound of disgust emerged from my throat as I washed off my hands, watching the blood dissipate as the water rinsed it away. "Y-you're sick. Leave my friends alone! I never asked for this." With those words I had spoken aloud, I quickly dried off my hands and bolted out the door, ignoring the perplexed look an incoming classmate was giving me. I couldn't bear to listen to Nameless any longer.

"_Remember your task…"_ the spirit reminded me as he faded out of my head.

For the remainder of the day, I kept my mind strictly on my schoolwork, refusing to spare a glance over at my newly acquired friends. It was unfortunate how in Japan, one had to stick with the same classmates for the _entire_ day, as opposed to a single class. It made it infinitely more difficult to keep to myself, especially when Jounouchi, who was seated next to me, tried to whisper a million and a half comments to me during classes.

"Pssst! Hey Bakura! So when do you think you can have us over? Is your place like, huge? We can make it a party or something! I'll bring the beer! Oh wait, do you drink? What do British people drink besides tea?"

I struggled to ignore such comments, especially ones that I practically _itched_ to respond to (such as that jab at my country's preferences in drinks), but I mostly succeeded in keeping my answers to a minimum. I really hoped Jounouchi wouldn't mistake me for being rude or snobby. I just couldn't bear to look at the very people who tried so hard to befriend me while knowing that Nameless was scheming to harm them.

Although time took no mercy in my struggles and passed as slowly as ever, the school day had finally ended. Overdramatically shoving my materials inside my backpack, I gave Jounouchi a hurried excuse regarding a doctor's appointment before he could even open up his mouth to ask me to whatever he had been planning.

Again, I cannot stress enough how _badly_ I wanted to hang out with Jounouchi, Yuugi, Anzu and Honda. I would have loved getting to know them better and maybe going to get a bite to eat. I would have loved going to the Kame Game shop and formally meeting Yuugi's grandfather. I would have loved to do anything to distract me from the purely evil spirit who nagged at my thoughts. To this day, I can't remember a time where I acted like a normal teenager, enjoying an afternoon with friends without a single care in the world.

But no. I knew I had to rush out of that school the moment the final bell rang, before Nameless could remind me to ask Yuugi and his friends over. Surely the instant he discovered my disobedience he would promptly take over and do the deed himself. But I couldn't allow that to happen.

I decided, from the time Jounouchi so kindly welcomed me into his group of friends, that I had to do whatever it took to protect them. Even when circumstances eventually altered the group's attitude towards me, I still felt obligated to defend them against the spirit's wrath.

Why? Because they so willingly accepted me as a part of their group. They _wanted_ me to be good friends with them. Granted, that changed because of Nameless's doings, but their intentions were still there.

So while Nameless lied dormant inside the ring, I hurried on home, running past buildings, signs and people unashamedly to ultimately lock myself away in my own apartment.

I would even miss school the next day. I told Nameless it was because I was violently ill, as I even forced myself to retch in order to pull off a convincing performance (it was a good thing he had no clue what syrup of Ipecac was). I didn't know what I planned to accomplish by holding off the spirit's plans one more day, but I figured I would delay him until I could think of something better. Oh, and he was _mad_. But I assume that he knew he would get his way eventually, so didn't bother to steal away the control I had over my body for the time being.

As I had stated earlier, it really was too bad that my friends decided to check up on me after school had ended the next day.

The moment they set foot into my apartment, the spirit of the ring immediately assumed control, completely disregarding my frantic begging and pleading. He was determined to carry out his plans of stealing away my friend's souls, as well as snatch away Yuugi's puzzle.

Although the quartet immediately noticed a change in my personality, they went along with it, assuming my so-called "illness" was to blame.

It didn't take the spirit long to cut to the chase- within minutes, he had convinced all of them to play 'Monster World.' Likewise, it only took another few minutes to unceremoniously transfer the group's unsuspecting souls to figurines he had expertly designed to look _exactly_ like them. He assumed it would be their final resting place so he at least made the carved out figures look accurate. Generous, wasn't it.

I wished the whole ordeal had never happened. I wished I had enough power to take back control of _my_ own body. As I watched my friends literally panic as they came to life through the form of game board pieces, I so strongly wished I could have somehow prevented it all from happening.

But then again, although the happenings of that day had ultimately changed how Yuugi, Anzu, Jounouchi and Honda would perceive me, it introduced me to the "wildcard" option that I so desperately needed for salvation.

I knew it from the moment that Nameless realized that his little "conquest" was not over. He had not in fact captured every soul in the room- one still remained.

Turns out, my savior could be the spirit who resides inside Yuugi's puzzle.

His other half- the Pharaoh.

A/N: Keep in mind that when Ryou is writing this, it is approximately before the Egypt Arc begins. So yes, he is well aware that Yuugi's darker half was a Pharaoh.  
**Part 2 of this chapter is on the way!**


	5. Potential Salvation 2

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

Chapter Five- Potential Salvation 2

Dark.

It was impossibly dark. It was like I had fallen into the deepest stage of sleep…except I was perfectly conscious. My mind was active but my body refused to move.

Not a single sound emanated throughout this black abyss. I could perhaps hear a faint numb ringing in my ears but that could have very well been imagined.

It felt like I was floating. Perhaps drifting through a shadowy hell.

Truly, I had no idea where I was. All I remembered was being immediately suppressed once Nameless found Yuugi, Jounouchi, Anzu and Honda on my doorstep…

So _this_ is where I go when my soul gets cast aside. I had never been conscious before. It was certainly an alarming experience but what good would panicking do? I couldn't move, I didn't even think I could _talk_…

So, in the deafening silence, I remained motionless, floating, floating , floating.

Time didn't appear to be definite in this strange black void. It could have been minutes, it could have been _hours_ until something happened.

"_Ryou, open your eyes." _

I felt like I was being ripped from my trance. I tried to turn my head in the direction I heard the voice coming from, but again, I was frozen in place.

"_Ryou, please open your eyes." _

Why did that voice sound so familiar? It was as if the repressed memories in my mind were scattering, scrambling to tell me who the owner of this voice was.

It was a female's voice. A girl's. I didn't know very many girls, except for one who was such a big part of my life so long ago…

"_Ryou, awake!" _

With a sudden comprehension my eyes opened, as simple as that. It seemed like the most obvious solution in the world, but why had it been so difficult before…? It was like trying to move in a dream and suddenly realizing that you could just wake up and regain control.

An explosion of colors met my unsuspecting eyes once they opened. Reds, oranges, yellows, greens- a flurry of colors was raining from the sky.

I soon realized I could move again. I was somehow standing, even though I had felt like I was drifting seconds ago. Slowly and uncertainly, I held out my hand, palm-side up. A leaf delicately fluttered downward, landing on it. It was a fiery red, tinged with splashes of sunset orange.

The first feeling that flooded throughout my body was confusion. Where could I possibly be that would allow leaves to fall from the sky as if it were raining?

"Welcome…to your soul room."

My head snapped up at the unexpected sound.

Radiant azure eyes gazed at me, filled with a childish delight. These eyes clearly belonged to the owner of the mysterious voice-a girl. Cascades of golden hair fell past the youth's shoulders, extending to the middle of her back. It shined brilliantly in the sunlight (which I had just become aware of as it all-too-cheerfully stung my eyes), creating the illusion that the girl was a glowing angel in the flesh.

A cherry red sundress adorned the girl. Its hem rippled slightly in the breeze that roamed throughout the cool air. I knew someone who wore that dress. She wore it the day she-

"A-Amane," I barely managed to choke out as my revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't believe it. Was I dead? Was this some kind of cruel trick that Nameless was playing on me?

Tears of confusion, disbelief and joy began to trickle down my face. I felt my shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably. I raised my trembling hands to my face, not sure of the reality of the situation. It had to be a hallucination of some sort.

And yet, there she was, right before my very eyes. A familiar smile spread from Amane's lips as she raised her arms to me expectantly.

I cast my doubts aside as I closed the gap between us. Falling to my knees and throwing my arms around her small frame, it was then that I felt safe to release all the buried emotions I had ignored since my sister's death. Unashamedly, I sobbed into her shoulder, holding onto her for dear life.

Amane simply held me back, letting me cry. It seemed like she had the air of someone thousands of years old…

Nevertheless there we were, with Amane at least half my size, her body frozen in time while I had moved on and had grown much bigger. In fact, I was quite tall for my age, making the height difference all the more noticeable.

Breaking away from the embrace, I finally composed myself enough to ask the burning questions that had been troubling my mind.

"A-am I finally dead? Is it all over?" I won't lie, I was sincerely hoping that something had happened while Nameless had taken over, causing my untimely death. It's not like I had much to live for anyway.

But Amane continued to smile up at me, despite my appalling desire for death. "No, silly Ryou. As I've said, you are in your 'soul room.'" Although I recognized Amane's voice, it sounded far more serene, knowledgeable, as if all of life's mysteries had been solved.

What was going _on_?

"'Soul room'?" I uncertainly repeated. It sounded like a judgment room to me- perhaps my sins were being laid out to determine whether or not I was worthy enough to go to heaven (at least that's what my religion has me to believe). But Amane said I wasn't dead so why was I in this strange room, if I could even call it that?

"Ryou, this room is quite literally the reflection of your own soul. It reflects your deepest desires, your fears, your dreams…even the ones you're not aware of yet. Everyone has a soul room, but rarely has anyone ever had the chance to see their own. Your unusual circumstances, however, allow you to personally see inside yours. And I must say, it's really beautiful in here." Amane swept her arm out, encouraging me to look around.

This 'soul room' looked like a strange mix of the outdoors and the inside of an actual room. As I had noticed before, vibrant leaves were pouring down from the sky, which was a toned-down shade of blue and frosted with fluffy clouds. Occasionally peaking behind the clouds was an afternoon sun, which to me looked like it was burning from a raging fire. It appeared its rays stretched out like arms, caressing and engulfing the only tree that resided in this strange place.

It didn't take more than a second for me to realize that this sole tree was the apple tree from my childhood, the very one that Amane and I had climbed on and picked its fruit. I noticed that the tree's branches were bowing down, drooping from the luscious, blood-red apples that hung from them. Dew droplets clung to the apples, glinting off the sunlight to make the fruit appear to me as rubies. Oh how I longed to taste these apples, the forbidden fruit from my childhood!

Off in the distance I could hear the discernible rich sound of a grand piano, playing the most mesmerizing melody known to my own ear. The melody was slow, moody and enchanting, arousing suppressed memories to resurface from within me. Every time I truly listened to the velvety notes of the piano, swirls of images danced in my head, from enjoying Christmas with my once-intact family to transferring schools. It was as if this unrecognizable song, a siren song nonetheless, was the musical story of my life. It was bittersweet.

Gazing across the premises of this room, I found my beloved grand piano resting some distance away from the apple tree, playing its tunes by invisible fingers. I could see the keys being pressed down as if I were playing it myself, yet nothing sat on the lonely wooden bench accompanying the piano.

In another corner of my soul room rested a bookshelf. Crammed into it lay various books and my favorite board games. On one shelf I saw my favorite RPG, Monster World, neatly folded up into a board game box. The fact that it was on the highest shelf and the most concealed perhaps indicated that it was _once_ my favorite RPG, primarily because now it was Nameless's favorite way to steal souls.

Lastly, there was a door that dwelled in the very middle of this topsy-turvy world of mine. There were no walls to support the door- it simply existed as it was, upright. It looked ordinary enough except for one obtrusive detail- in the center rested a large opening in the shape of an eye. A look closer indicated that this "opening" was actually a sort of mirror-like object without any sort of reflection. Odd.

All together I would say my "soul room" was (and still is) backwards, confusing, enigmatic and nostalgic…a very fitting theme I suppose. And to think my sister called it "beautiful"- _that_ I can't understand.

And there were about a thousand more questions I was thirsting to ask Amane. Every object that I saw in my soul room raised exponentially more inquiries that raced through my mind.

"You like what you see?" Amane finally piped up after a few moments of silence. She was watching my reaction very carefully, perhaps curious to see if I was still in disbelief.

"I…don't know," I answered truthfully. "I mean, I don't know what to think. The fact that nothing in this room makes much sense…does that mean I'm crazy?"

Bubbles of laughter escaped from my little sister. "No not at all! It means that you're different from most people. You defy convention. It might also mean your life is out of the ordinary. I find that fascinating, don't you?"

I wasn't consoled by this explanation. "No, actually. There's nothing fascinating about having a criminal possess my body half the time."

Amane's eyes suddenly looked sad as she stared at me with a sincere expression. "I know it's unfair. But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger….you probably don't want to hear that though, do you?"

"What happened to my little sister?" I half-jokingly asked. "Kids your age don't talk this way."

"I know. That's because I'm not a little girl anymore. Once you die, you no longer take on an age- it's as if everyone is on the same level. Everything became so clear to me once I passed on, and I suddenly remembered all the lives I had before the one I shared with you. So in a sense, I became an adult several times before I-"

"Stop, please," I interrupted as I struggled to process the jumble of words my sister had just spewed at me. "'_Lives_'? You mean to tell me…."

"Well, yeah, isn't it obvious?" my sister smiled humorlessly, "And it wasn't a coincidence that the spirit inhabiting your body chose to possess you."

Now my mind was really swimming in this swamp of information. "I don't understand."

Amane looked at me sympathetically. "Ryou…that spirit…was _you_ in another life."

_No_.

My heart felt like it had been put into a straightjacket at these words. I felt a sudden urge to vomit.

"You're lying," I managed to croak. There was absolutely _no way_ that this monster, this _vile_ spawn of Satan, could possibly be-

"No Ryou, I am not. As I've said, unusual circumstances have allowed you to encounter him. You've only had one past life, which was back in ancient Egypt. Due to tampering with magical forces that humans can't control, the 'spirit' broke off into two parts, one frozen in the past and the other…which resurfaced as you, many years later. So essentially you two share the same soul. The only difference being, of course, the circumstances by which you both grew up in."

I raised my shaking hands to grip my head in agony. I still didn't comprehend the information…or perhaps I wasn't allowing myself to. "B-but…he destroys lives, he can _kill_ people…"

"It was a part of the culture your other half grew up in," Amane simply explained, watching me with her intense ocean eyes.

"Don't call him that," I snapped, completely revolted at the thought that Nameless had any connection to _me_.

Amane sighed, seeing my increasing distress. "Let's talk about something else. Everything that I told you will make sense eventually…but I can see that won't be happening right now. You are probably wondering why you are here, right?"

I willed my dark thoughts on Nameless to go away as I feebly nodded my head. "I'm also wondering why _you_ are here, Amane."

My sister addressed my previous question first. "You have always had a soul room to retreat to whenever the 'spirit' took over. However, because your mind was so shut off, you allowed yourself to slip into a sort of unconsciousness until you were allowed control again. I feel you did this as a sort of defensive mechanism….it had nothing to do with the spirit hiding away your soul simply because he willed it. No, no one has that sort of power." Amane stopped for a second as she tilted her head in thought. "But I must say, he is quite manipulative to have you believe so."

I clenched my teeth as I struggled to regain composure. "You make it seem as if my misfortune is _my_ fault."

Amane tapped her foot with mild impatience. "Don't be angry with me Ryou, but I'd say yes, it sort of is your fault."

I couldn't help but let my jaw fall open. "A-are you serious? Do you have any idea-"

"Of course I do. I've been watching you this whole time, ever since I passed away. Although I can't do a thing to help you, I can still criticize my brother for being so…submissive."

Submissive…?

"So everything the spirit has done- from mangling my body to trapping souls into figurines- you mean to tell me this is all my fault?" I was completely aghast at my sister's words. Was she hearing herself correctly?

But Amane stared at me unwaveringly. "The spirit's actual doings were not your fault. But what you chose to do about it is. Do you honestly believe throwing around weak pleas for mercy will do anything? 'Please don't,' 'stop hurting them,' 'why are you doing this?'- what's so convincing about a few empty words?"

Truthfully, I was getting upset, despite the fact I was talking to my dead sister whom I had missed dearly moments before. "Well what would you propose I do about it, Amane?"

My sister continued to stare at me, through my soul. "Stop being the victim."

I will never forget those words, even to this day, as I sit and reflect upon my actions. How those words have irrevocably influenced my life! I feel as if every small rebellion I have thrust upon my "darker half" was due to those few wise words.

Finally I had willed myself to speak. "You're here to convince me that I'm not as powerless as I think, aren't you?"

Approvingly, Amane nodded her head. "Exactly. Do you see that mirror right there?" My sister flicked her hand towards the floating door I was inspecting earlier. As I had already observed, a mirror-like object rested in the center.

"Yes. Why?" It was creeping me out. It clearly wasn't showing any reflection, but rather, a collage of moving objects from somewhere else.

"Look closer. It should remind you of something oddly familiar."

As I leaned in, I noticed that this looking glass wasn't showing random images at all. In fact, it was as if I had been seeing through someone else's eyes.

As I began to recognize the forms before me, I became more and more horrified.

No, this mirror wasn't displaying an aimless collection of my memories, or anything of that sort- I was literally looking through Nameless's eyes.

I could see Yuugi, Anzu, Jounouchi and Honda- only they were downsized into miniatures. I could see the horror in their eyes as they struggled to survive on the game board Nameless had cast them on. I could see the computer screen that calculated the technicalities of Monster World, the game my friends were forced to role play to the extreme. I could see many other game board pieces, which were undoubtedly hosting the souls of other trapped individuals.

And I could see someone actually _fighting_ against Nameless- with a confidence I had never seen before in my life.

It was Yuugi who was facing Nameless on the other side of the game board- and at the same time, it wasn't. It couldn't be. The Yuugi I had become friends with was trapped in a figurine, fighting alongside his friends.

Then who was the person I was looking at…? Yuugi's typical violet eyes were instead reflecting an almost crimson hue, and they _dared_ Nameless to attack.

It definitely was not Yuugi.

Then I remembered the puzzle Yuugi always carried around his neck. Could he have been possessed by a spirit too?

He definitely was- how else could he be fighting on the game board _and_ combating Nameless?

For a moment I feared that the spirit of Yuugi's puzzle was evil as well- maybe he fought to win my ring. But then again, if such were the case, if I had control over my body, I would have probably just thrown it at him, screaming, "_Take it_!"

As it turned out, it didn't take me long to discover that no, this spirit did not have any desire to steal away my ring.

He fought for the life of his host- Yuugi- and the rest of his friends.

I saw it in the way he gazed at the miniatures before him. Every time the game was swayed in Nameless's favor, this odd spirit would appear absolutely dismayed, distraught over the fact that four souls were in danger. He understood that losing the game would cause the teens to lose their lives as well, and so this spirit clearly gave his strongest effort.

I couldn't understand it.

So Yuugi was in an identical situation as me- only the spirit _he_ was stuck with turned out to be some sort of heroic protector.

And what did that make mine?

That's easy- a sadistic, cruel, vindictive, bloodthirsty sprite who lusts after destruction (if you had not noticed earlier, I will happily throw names at the spirit of the ring whenever opportunity strikes).

Despite the spirit of the puzzle's fiercest efforts to fight against Nameless, I could tell that it would be an ill-fated battle.

Not because this spirit lacked gaming skills (which couldn't be farther from the truth), but predictably, Nameless had the game rigged from the beginning and has a penchant towards cheating.

I believe that the spirit of the puzzle knew this too. However, like a true gamer, he kept his head held high and fought on bravely, relying heavily on 'Lady Luck.'

Seeing enough, I turned my head away, not wishing to see the outcome of this match. Judging from the position Nameless's miniature was in, he was about to strike, seconds away from claiming his stolen victory.

"Why do you look away, Ryou?" my sister piped up, noticing my actions.

"There's not much more to see here. They're going to lose," I replied, as if it were obvious.

I was wrong though.

"Rarely is anything definite. Your friends will lose their lives today only if one thing doesn't happen."

"Which is what?"

"If _you_ don't do something about it. You have more power than you think."

Uncharacteristically, I scoffed at this. "What 'power'? Have you really seen who I am dealing with?"

"Ryou Bakura, this is _your_ body!" Amane finally yelled, "Don't you think you are entitled to some control over it?"

"Of course I do, but how?" I demanded, gesturing over to the mirror, "_He_ won't let me through."

"Have you ever really tried?" my sister pointed out, folding her arms resolutely.

I was stumped. "I…I guess I wouldn't know where to start," I admitted reluctantly. To be honest, defying Nameless terrified me. Before then, I never had the nerve to even think about it.

"It's easier than you think. You have to _will_ it," my sister advised. "Just focus on what you need to do, and eventually, at least some control should return to you. You've already gained consciousness in your mind- and that's the first step. Now you have to deliberately think about what you want your body to do. Use that looking-glass as a guide."

Glancing over at the mirror, my thoughts momentarily drifted. "Amane…what would happen if I opened that door?"

My sister's eyes followed my gaze. "That door leads to the soul room of the spirit controlling you. If you can open that door, that means you can automatically assume dominance of your own body. But as you will soon find out, it's locked. Obviously the spirit wants nothing to do with you as well, and he is a selfish creature- he would never allow you to gain access beyond your own soul room."

"I could have figured that," I said, talking to myself more so than my sister, "But I wonder if I will ever be able to get the door open."

"I'm sure there are ways," Amane alleged. "But in the meantime, you'll have to do as I say if you want to save your friends."

"Right." At this I paused, "Amane…will you always be here, in my soul room? I feel like I'll need you to walk me through this. And for other times too, since I'm sure there will be."

The corners of Amane's lips curved up slightly although her eyes weren't smiling. "It's not that simple, Ryou. I wish it were. But this will be your only time seeing me…I knew you really needed some guidance, and of course I wanted to be there for you-"

"But why now? If you can be with me right now, why can't you continue to see me?" I demanded, uncomprehending.

"Ryou, I wish we had the time for me to explain everything to you, but I fear the longer we wait, the more peril your friends will be in," Amane sighed. "So this will have to be our final goodbye."

Funny how cruel fate can be, isn't it? Right when my heart felt at ease in knowing that I would have my sister by my side, walking me through my confusing life, I quickly found out that I was sorely mistaken.

I should have expected it, though.

I remember how disheartened I felt at Amane's words and how I struggled for composure. I even struggled to form coherent sentences! Our goodbye was very much _unlike_ what you would see in the movies…it was raw, unscripted, and completely abrupt. Like the frail-hearted human that I am, I cried until Amane, my little sister, had to hold _me_ until I quieted down.

I can't even begin to describe how much I miss seeing her face.

That brief instance in my life seems like a distant dream to me now. Her caring but serious expression, which always made her midnight blue eyes appear like a calm ocean, is only a faded memory in the back of my head.

So many questions were left unanswered when Amane left me. But as it turned out, I had to throw my confusion aside when I resolved to come to the aid of my friends. I didn't know _how_ I was going to overthrow Nameless, and yet, I was determined to at least try.

Time runs the fastest when you need it the most. I wasn't allowed the luxury of strategizing- instead I went for a more chaotic approach by doing whatever I could to serve as an obstacle in Nameless's endeavors.

To Amane's credit, she was right- regaining control of my body, albeit minor control, was relatively simple. The more focused I was in collecting my thoughts, the easier it became for me to sway the actions of Nameless as he wreaked havoc in Monster World.

I found I could make the spirit fumble when he rolled the dice. This proved to be especially useful to the spirit of Yuugi's puzzle, who needed every advantage he could get.

To me, the most interesting aspect to my attempt at undoing Nameless's game was when I had assumed complete dominance over my left hand. It may have seemed like a minor feat, but I remember using it to type out messages on my laptop to communicate with Nameless. Through the computer I warned him about hurting my friends and that I wouldn't tolerate it any longer. I had no clue where I had retrieved such nerve from, but perhaps seeing Amane had given me a confidence I never knew existed.

Nameless was _shocked_. He was completely thunderstruck, having no clue as to how I had managed to resurface from my unconscious abyss. His confusion was so strong, in fact, that I could actually hear his thoughts as they dashed through his mind. They came as a whisper at first, but the harder I listened in my soul room, the more distinct his words became.

'_What is my host doing? How did he manage to escape the confines I had locked him in? How is he doing this? That wretched bastard will pay for this…'_

You know when you are in the midst of action and you completely forget about the consequences that will surely arise later?

I believe I was in a very similar predicament.

I was so caught up with working with the spirit of the puzzle to defeat Nameless that I disregarded what would be a result of my "disobedience." I think that back then, there was some sort of wild hope, a crazy fantasy, that Nameless would be eliminated forever if he lost the game.

It's like I said though- the spirit who stole my identity is like a horror movie serial killer. He will keep coming back again, and again, and again, until nothing's left to annihilate.

So after everyone reached the revelation that I am different from Nameless, after we had succeeded in defeating Zorc, Nameless's allegedly unconquerable miniature, _and_ after finally winning the RPG, I thought the worst was over when my ring came crashing down to the floor, momentarily uninhibited.

True, Nameless had skewered a hole in my left hand in the process, and true, I had almost died in the course of fighting for dominance over my body, but at the time I didn't care- for once in a long time, I felt _free_. I didn't feel a dark cloud hanging over me or some mysterious shadow lurking in the crevices of my mind…there was nothing.

And to further fuel my elated stupor, the spirit of the puzzle, upon defeating Nameless, had looked at me directly with a reassuring smile and said, "He won't be haunting you anymore."

Who was this hero? He had the air of a king, cloaked in confidence, regality and magnificence. Whenever a sentence was emitted from his lips, I couldn't help but believe every word.

He was wrong about Nameless not coming back though, but that was to be expected. Even in my dazed state, drunk off of freedom, in the back of my mind I sort of knew that my liberation would be short-lived.

But that didn't matter. What mattered to me was that even if Nameless returned, I now had an awaiting 'benefactor' to aide me.

The spirit of the puzzle would save me.

If I were unable to escape from Nameless's sinister grasp, I am sure that Yuugi's alter ego would do something about it.

Judging from his actions the day Yuugi and his friends were transfigured into miniatures, I would say it is in his nature to act as the proverbial white knight.

And it's good to know that I realized early on that I had an alternative plan to fall back on, because, that very day when Nameless had been defeated, he was sure to come back when I least suspected it.

That's where things get ugly.

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**A/N:** So at last, the next chapter will be addressing what it was that had destroyed Ryou's morale, which he had mentioned way back in chapter 3. Get ready for a roller coaster of hopes rising and falling, as I'm sure it will be happening a lot…  
And I hope it's all right with you guys when I opted to sort of 'fudge' over the gaming scene with Monster World- I figured we all knew the story, but what we don't know is what happened _before_ and _after_ those events. That's where I come in, of course ;)


	6. Even the Sweetest Chords Are Put to Rest

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: I think it's necessary that I dedicate this chapter to **Bakura's Guardian Angel**, **consumedbylove**, and **emmigummi** who have all stuck through this story since day one. Really, it means the world to me.  
As a side note, you should all know that I'm going off to college in a few days so this will be the only update for a long time. If it means anything, I really am sorry. But instead of egging people on and saying that I'll be around weekly for updates, I'll be honest and say that you should expect the next update _maybe_ around Christmas time. Of course, I'll try to make it sooner than that, but I'll never make a promise that I can't keep.  
Thank you all again for favoriting/reviewing/reading my story!  
Love, ACE

Chapter Six- Even the Sweetest Chords Are Put to Rest

Happily ever afters are so unrealistic.

I mean, they're just not practical. So many things can go wrong in life…what are the chances that everything works out for _every_ person in the story?

I loved fairytales when I was little. I was a starry-eyed and naive little boy, and couldn't help but believe that each story had to conclude with a princess riding away into the romantic sunset with her prince charming.

But back then, I never considered the 'third variable.'

Take the fairytale "Cinderella" for example. Of course a maid marries a prince, raising herself from the ashes and onto a throne. Supposedly everyone rejoices.

But have you ever really thought about her two stepsisters?

In most if not all versions, these stepsisters, who also competed for the prince's love, were portrayed as nasty and jealous individuals- their most vicious side to human nature on constant display.

I'd like to believe that there's more to the story than a duo of 'evil' stepsisters who attempted to crush Cinderella's dreams.

What if they had dreams of their own? What if they too, were hoping to turn their back on poverty and start over in a new life?

What if their mother _forced_ them to act cruel to Cinderella?

You see, like a coin, there are two sides to a story. We are often shown the more pleasant side, the one that's easier to digest, to comprehend.

My story, a side-story to Yuugi's if you will, is like the other, uglier side of the coin.

_I_ am like those two stepsisters. I too am misunderstood, and feel the pain in knowing that no one really cares about what I have to say. All people truly want to know is that there _is_ a happy ending, while those who continue to struggle for closure are left in the dust.

From the day my friends were introduced to Nameless up until now, I have noticed a pattern.

There will be a conflict. Yuugi's other half will solve the problem, and all will be right again. In the meantime, he will struggle to find his lost identity and will manage to gather little bits and pieces along the way. Ultimately, he will always come through victorious and 'peace' will be restored until the next villain decides to take a crack at him.

I have an overwhelming hunch that this cycle will continue until the spirit of the puzzle's mission is complete- that is, when he gathers all seven millennium items, smothers all qualms that his opposers have against him and remembers his past.

I say this because I know that Yuugi's other half, who was once a _pharaoh_, will inevitably achieve his goal and everyone will get to enjoy their happily ever after.

I often wonder if I am included in this.

This question has been floating around my mind for quite some time now. It had first sprung up the very same day that Nameless lost playing Monster World against Yuugi's other half. As I had mentioned before, I thought he was gone, at least for the time being. After all, I couldn't feel the usual zap, the usual bolt of energy, that I receive whenever I touch the ring.

Upon my friends' departure, I was left alone in my apartment to consider what it meant that Nameless was allegedly sentenced to the Shadow Realm. Did I finally have my body all to myself? Was I really all alone? Did this mean I could carry on my life as a normal teenager, kicking all interaction with the supernatural under the rug?

No, no, and definitely not.

I just wasn't expecting him to return so soon.

I was in the sitting room, where my RPG was set up, picking up the pieces that were scattered on the floor. All the miniatures, including the ones that Nameless had acquired before, were returned back to normalcy… there was no longer an eerie vibe I was detecting from them, nor a barely audible shouting fest with trapped souls begging for freedom.

Nameless and the spirit of the puzzle had definitely done a number on the playing field, that much was for sure. I mean, aside from one of the spires being coated in a murky shade of burgundy from my pierced hand, various scenery pieces and buildings were either chipping or half-deteriorated.

I was right in the middle of separating the pieces that needed repair work and those that had managed to survive undamaged when I heard _it._

That unmistakable, frigid laugh.

It was more of a ghostly whisper at first, fleeting like a cloud momentarily passing over the sun, but it was loud enough to shoot tremors down my spine.

'_What are the chances that I am imagining this?_' I had vaguely wondered to myself as I slowly, very slowly, set the miniature in my hand down on the table. Paranoid, my eyes dashed around the room, expecting to see the physical embodiment of Nameless.

It didn't happen, obviously, but again I was greeted with another maniacal chuckle which appeared to be resonating from everywhere. It sounded much clearer to me, as if to prove that no, I wasn't simply hearing things.

My eyes fearfully trailed down to where the ring laid on the floor. It was neither glowing nor reverberating from the spirit's presence, so where could he have been…?

And better yet, _how_ did he return?

"Are you going to come out, or what?" I finally shouted to the ceiling, making my voice appear more assertive than how I was feeling. Inside, I must have been shaking like drug addict without his fix.

I really was hoping for no response. But things never turn out as one would hope, right?

"_Happy to hear from me, eh, little Ryou?_" came the gleeful reply.

"D-don't…don't call me that!" I shot back, willing myself to remain strong. How _dare_ he refer to me on a first-name basis.

"_Oh, I see…would you rather I call you 'Vessel'?_" the spirit taunted. Where was his voice coming from? It was like having my mind tuned to a horrendous radio station without any means of turning it off.

"_But no worries…I won't do that. I like Ryou much better. Clearly it bothers you far more…"_ Nameless continued, occasionally giving in to a snicker. "_And besides, I certainly can't call you Bakura…no, I'm reserving that name for myself. You won't mind, right?_"

His sarcasm was so apparent I could probably physically locate it and hurl a dart right through the center. Of _course_ it wouldn't matter what I thought- I knew he was going to take away my name anyway.

Regardless, I still protested. "You can't just steal away my name, you thief!"

Amidst the chuckles, I thought I heard him murmur, "If only you knew," but I couldn't be sure. He then raised his voice so I could hear more clearly. "_I think it's only right that you know that today, your name won't be the only thing that you will lose, little Ryou._"

I warily looked around me again, trying to find the source of Nameless's voice in vain. I vaguely wondered if running away would get rid of the sinister spirit.

Nameless seemed to be somehow reading my thoughts, as he then said, "_No point in trying to escape, I can promise you that. You see, my soul isn't just lodged in the ring…it is permanently inside of __**you**_."

My blood seemed to freeze over at that moment. My back stiffened, as a knot began to form in the back of my throat.

"What…what did you just say?" My voice was barely above a hoarse whisper. Louder than my words were my thoughts, praying that I had heard wrong. Permanently inside of me? What could that even mean? How is that even _possible_?

"_I assume you are aware of your soul room, isn't that right? I mean, otherwise, there would be no other way you could…momentarily postpone my plans_." The spirit's voice took on a slightly darker tone, bristling with resentment that was poorly concealed.

"Yes," I quietly confirmed, ignoring how my fear was surmounting by the second. No longer was I trying to put up a more assertive façade.

"_Well here's a little tidbit for you: your soul room not only hosts your hopes and dreams…it harbors your fears as well._"

Nameless didn't need to finish what he was saying, for I had already caught on. And yet, he continued anyway, relishing in my dismay. "_You may refuse to acknowledge it, but I am your greatest fear. The physical representation of every nightmare you have ever had. And such a strong emotion, albeit negative, deserves a spot in your soul room, don't you think?_

"_I am a part of you, Ryou_," Nameless continued, his voice descending lower, "_Which means I am here to stay. So be a good vessel, and accept your fate, for it'll make it easier for the both of us…_"

"No!" I uncontrollably shouted, my fists balling, "You can't do this! You can't just enter my life and expect me to step aside! I won't allow it!"

"_Oh, really now. Tell me, Ryou. Do you honestly believe that you have any say in this?_" I could practically hear the malice dripping in the spirit's voice.

Suddenly, I felt my body awkwardly bending over, reaching the floor. My arms, no longer in my control, clumsily stretched out towards the ring and picked it up. It was as if my body had strings attached to it, and Nameless was simply pulling them.

I was being controlled. But I was perfectly conscious of his actions. It was just like the very first day that I was 'introduced' to the ring.

"W-what are you doing?" I nearly shrieked as my upper torso stiffly snapped back up.

I heard a caustic laugh explode in my ears. "_What? You don't like it when I do this? Don't worry- I won't hurt you. At least not your body. Because you see, it's my body too. Now as for your mind…that is a completely different matter._"

The spirit, through my actions, slipped the ring back around my neck and fondly stroked it. "_There, now. That's where it belongs, and that's where it will stay. You wouldn't want me to do what I did to you the last time, right…?_"

A nightmarish vision of my chest being stabbed with the ring's pinnacles entered my mind. I could practically smell the foul stench of blood.

Perhaps it was this image burned in my mind that made me snap. Against all reason, I managed to steal back some control as I ripped the ring back off.

"You're _sick_!" I screamed at Nameless as I flung the ring at a nearby wall with as much force as I could muster. It smashed against the wall with a violent crash, clattering to the floor in less than a second.

And then there was silence.

It was short-lived.

"_You…__**insolent**__ little brat_," Nameless hissed, every word being injected with venom. No longer was he hiding behind his arrogant mask of sinister pleasure- his rage was like a flame being doused with kerosene.

I began to shake violently as I then realized what a foolish mistake I had just made. The spirit was a monster even when he wasn't angry- what horrors would await me now that his wrath became aroused?

I felt my legs begin to move. One leg would rigidly cut in front of the other; it was such an awkward walk I feared I would fall over. I was heading toward the kitchen.

"Where are you taking me? Stop it!" I yelled, panicked, as I helplessly moved closer to our destination.

"_I was going to let your disobedience pass from earlier_," Nameless started, "_But no more. I can see that you are going to be difficult until I break you, which won't be hard_."

I then stumbled into the kitchen, heading for the medicine cabinet.

"What are you going to do to me?" I hoarsely choked out, feeling fear's cold hands nearly suffocating me.

"_I'm teaching you a lesson, little puppet. You are never to disobey me again, do you hear?_"

I couldn't bring myself to answer as my hands lifelessly floated up and opened the cabinet. It was all so dreamlike, I was desperately hoping that it wasn't real.

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead as I numbly observed myself reaching for a bottle of aspirin. My fingers involuntarily pried open the lid, allowing its contents to spill over the counter. I watched as little red pills rolled around in circles, scattering like ants about to be smashed.

'_Is he going to kill me?'_ I wondered in my terror-ridden haze.

Nameless read my thoughts. "_Of course not, my rebellious host. This is much too easy. If I could kill you, believe me, I would ensure that it would be __**far**__ more painful than this._"

I heard him chuckle in his perverse way as my hand grabbed at the pills as mechanically as a machine claw from a vending machine.

"_Now open wide_," I heard Nameless sneer as my mouth unwillingly popped open. One by one, the spirit made me dispense pills into my mouth.

I tried so hard to regain control. I struggled incessantly, fighting for at least some power back. But as I helplessly swallowed the pills, I knew in the back of my mind I was wasting my time.

"_You know, I really thought we could be good friends_," Nameless jeered as he continued force-feeding me the aspirin, "_But you made it too difficult. Why did you have to betray me, my little host? You know that those brats from school aren't really your friends. But __**I**__ will always be here…_" Another laugh wavered in my ears as I recoiled in disgust.

"Please just stop it!" I pleaded between gasps for air. I nearly choked on a pill as the deadly medicine kept coming.

"_No, it's not that simple. If I were to simply let go what you did to my ring, then you would continue acting defiant…and I just can't have that. When I start collecting the Millennium items, I don't need you attempting to overthrow me_."

Nameless paused, speculating his words. "_Understand this, 'puppet': You will never be able to seize power over me. Never. So give it up now. No more conspiring with Yuugi and his groupies. From this day forward, you will respect my every wish…_"

But I wasn't listening to the last part of the spirit's assertion, for I was beginning to feel exceedingly drowsy. Soon images began to blur and mesh together before my eyes, as I swayed to remain standing.

I heard the spirit bubble with callous laughter. "_Already affecting you, is it? I forgot how frail your body is_."

"What are you going to do?" I demanded through gritted teeth. My hand stopped moving, no longer being forced to deposit pills down my throat. I clutched onto the counter to hold myself up.

"_Oh, you'll find out soon enough_…" Nameless assured me, "_Now sleep, Ryou Bakura_…"

I felt a drop of sweat sluggishly trickle down my face. My breaths were shallow as I struggled to keep my eyes open. It felt like I hadn't slept in days. So badly I wanted to remain awake, as I fought off the darkness of sleep with desperate conviction.

As seconds ticked by I felt more delusional. Over and over again, a verse from a song that I only heard once years ago was put on repeat in my head. It was a maddening taunt, being delivered in a singsong voice:

_What is this feeling that's pushing me?  
I am your puppet on a string.  
Pull the cord- control me.  
You are my bitter reality…_

Was I swaying to the music? The floor would appear to get closer, then drift away…

I was a pendulum, swinging back and forth to an imagined tune.

And then the floor became so alluringly close that I just _had_ to come into contact with it to make sure it was real.

* * *

I woke up when the moon hung blaringly clear in the sky. When my eyes opened, they were greeted with the harsh glare of moonlight that had peaked through the blinds of my living room window.

….

Only I didn't lose consciousness in the living room. Why was I there?

And then my thoughts reluctantly drifted over to the spirit of the ring.

_What did he do…?_

For the most part, I _felt _okay. I mean, my head sort of hurt from the fall, but I didn't feel any sort of throbbing or flashes of pain shooting through me. Worry slowly swam its way throughout my body, refusing to believe that the spirit had done _nothing_.

Shakily, I rose to my feet, relieved to know that I at least woke up with my control back. Carefully snaking my way around the room, I squinted against the darkness to find the light switch. My hand blindly shuffled across the wall until it found the switch, flicking it on.

Upon having the light wash over the room, uncovering the secrets that were veiled in darkness, my hand clamped over my mouth to stifle a scream.

It was a shattered mess. Before me laid a massive pile of once-perfect wood, now splintering and smashed into countless of pieces. It could have been firewood.

It was my piano.

The insides of it were strewn all across the floor, with various parts completely destroyed for additional emphasis. The piano strings were severed, the metal frame was broken in two, the pin block was completely demolished…

And the keys. The delicate balance between ebony and ivory was defiled as random fragments lay abandoned on the ground.

But there was something even more disconcerting, frightening, about my desecrated piano.

Those pure ivory keys were tainted.

With blood.

The sickly red tint contrasted sharply with the white. It languidly blanketed the keys, dripping down to stain the carpet ever so slowly. Like a deliberate smile when a person suddenly realizes he has won a game.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. _

I blankly observed the scene before me.

This couldn't _really_ be happening. Of course not. I mean, who could conjure up something as unfathomable as destroying the only material item I ever had an attachment to? One that held sentimental value.

And surely there wasn't _really_ blood on the keys…

A thought slapped me in the face, hard. Whose blood did it belong to? It wasn't mine, right?

I help my hands up to my face, rotating them with my wrists to examine them. My eyes scanned over my body, expecting to notice familiar burgundy liquid seeping through my clothing. There was none.

Where did it come from?

And then I thought of something horrific- what if Nameless had actually _killed_ someone?

Fear was a tsunami, crashing down over my head relentlessly. It engulfed me completely, leaving me to sputter and choke in shock.

I noticed that I was wearing the ring again.

I drew in a trembling breath.

"Namel- I mean, Bakura?" I hated myself entirely as I said it, "Are you there?"

"_I always am, foolish Ryou. Is something the matter…?_"

I loathed every word that rang in my head. His tone was mockingly innocent, daring me to lash out at him.

"You didn't really…did you?" My voice came out as a pathetic whimper. All the more reason to hate myself.

"_What nonsense are you babbling about now?_" Nameless taunted. His voice was cold, devoid of any hint of guilt like a normal person.

I glared down at the ring, straining to keep my voice from cracking. "Please. Just tell me now. Did you or did you not murder someone?" The words sounded strange as they left my mouth. Never in my entire life would I have guessed that I would be asking anyone this.

"_If no one catches you, is it really considered murder?_" Nameless wryly proposed.

It was the last thing I wanted to hear. I didn't bother responding to the rhetorical question, rather, I opted to simply stare at my wrecked piano.

Never again would I hear that beautiful instrument's melodies through my own hands. Never again would a pitch be emitted from the ages-old family keepsake.

It would forever be silenced.

To add to this emotional burden, I likely had blood on my hands. Someone was probably killed, and my own body would have been the vessel to have committed such a heinous act.

I was too distraught to cry. I was so overwhelmed that not even screaming to the heavens would have done any good. Besides, even if I did scream, who would hear it…?

Perhaps the better question is, who would care?

As I limply slid to the floor, I finally resolved that there were no tears left to be shed. If I were to cry, that would mean that I acknowledged the satanic events that had played out before me, which I wasn't quite ready to do yet.

And so I sat there, impassively staring at the mess before me for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Hey Bakura, you look so completely _dead_ right now!" Jounouchi exclaimed as he leaned forward to catch a better glimpse of my face. I warily stared back, contemplating if I should even bother with my usual upbeat façade.

"Ha! You're so right! Look at the dark circles under his eyes! He's like a zombie!" Honda chortled as he did a once-over to my body.

Jounouchi tensed, completely terrified of any mention of the supernatural, as a shudder caused him to squirm. "Hey, uh, Bakura, you're not a zombie, right?"

"Will you guys knock it off? Leave the poor guy alone," Anzu chastised as she shoved the two boisterous teens a good few feet away from me. Yuugi just grinned at this, watching Jounouchi's thoroughly spooked expression at the mention of 'zombie.'

I offered the group a nice, warm smile. "You are all so silly. Let's just say I didn't get much sleep recently and call it a day, all right?"

"Sounds possible, I guess…" Jounouchi alleged reluctantly, his dark brown eyes swarming with suspicion. What a strange person.

The group continued on with their usual banter. Yuugi occasionally glanced over at me, as his face would fleetingly scrunch in thought. He knew something was up.

I didn't bother joining the conversation as I fell into my familiar habit- I watched. Not that I was even listening.

I felt the familiar stinging in my chest whenever the ring was reacting. Clearly Nameless wanted to remind me, to warn me to not get too close.

I closed my weary eyes as I sat back in my chair.

No, Jounouchi, I am certainly not a zombie, but I do have a murderer living inside of me.

Does that count?


	7. The Truth About Stained Glass

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh! If I did, admittedly, there would probably be far less Duel Monsters. So I guess really, I'm just a fanatic of the characters :)

A/N: Long time no see, eh…? I got to this chapter far before I had planned, so yay. Now, just to warn you all, this chapter takes on a more religious tone, which is a very dangerous topic to address…comparable to stomping on ice with iron-clad boots. So heads up. Just wanted to clarify though, that I am _not_ using this as a means of projecting my own beliefs. Keep in mind that an author's job is to distance his or her own values from the character being portrayed. So in no way, shape or form, am I marketing what I believe.

And by the way, there _is_ a reason why I'm throwing a church scene into this story. I'm not tossing around this plot haphazardly, I can promise you that.

(*The psalm that I quote during this chapter is psalm 22)

Lastly, there's just a _sprinkle_ of irony in this chapter. Can you find where it is…?

____________________________________________

Chapter Seven- The Truth About Stained Glass

"_My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"_

The solemn words of an ancient Christian psalm dreamily trailed through the chilly autumn air, reaching my ears while I was passing a church.

It was a dreary Sunday morning as bitter raindrops carefully fell from the slate sky. It wasn't quite raining yet; it was more so tentatively splattering from above. Occasionally thunder would grumble behind the clouds, threatening for a storm.

I was just heading back to my apartment from a local pastry shop. I woke up earlier with a huge craving for a sugar-injected confection, tiring of the typical Japanese cuisine. An English boy can only take miso soup for so long, after all.

I had every intention of making a direct trip from the shop to my home- I only planned to be gone maybe ten minutes. But there was something about the song that had drifted over to me that made me pause and listen.

"_Why are you so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning?_"

I shuddered. I hadn't been to church since I was a child, disenchanted by reality. I figured to myself, what God would let my life fall so miserably out of control?

And yet there I stood, completely still while passersby had to irritably sidestep the cumbersome boy who apparently forgot how to walk.

What was it about those words that appealed to me so much? It seemed to strike a chord from within me, awakening a once dormant curiosity for a God I had forgotten years ago.

And so there I lingered, dumbfounded, spontaneously compelled to actually _enter_ the church. Even I didn't know why.

I hastily stared down at the wrinkled paper bag in my clenched hand, containing two generously-frosted éclairs in all their delicious glory.

It appeared my breakfast would just have to wait.

Somewhat reluctantly, I ducked out of the cool wet weather and into the nearby church that was beckoning me to enter. The song still carried on, growing louder in volume as I stalked through the large wooden doors, feeling more like a spy than a welcomed member.

The church wasn't too full, allowing me to sneak into one of the back rows without much commotion. In fact, no one seemed to care. Without missing a beat, people continued to sing with the choir, some with clasped hands in prayer while others held onto hymn books.

Everyone was standing, but I elected to sit down behind a pew, observing rather than participating. I didn't even bother to take off my jacket- I merely sat there, listening, allowing my shoulders to finally relax as I descended into a reflecting mode.

"_My God my God, why have you forsaken me?  
Why are you so far from saving me,  
So far from the words of my groaning?  
But I am a worm and not a man,  
Scarred by men and despised by the people…"_

A sardonic smile faintly touched my lips. I could definitely relate. All my life, I have always wondered when I would be saved, when help would finally come and ward off all the disasters that seemed to gravitate around me.

Then I considered Amane's words to me that one fateful day in my soul room.

"_Stop being the victim_," she had said.

I remembered the way her dark ocean blue eyes stared at me without a trace of sympathy. Clearly she cared for me, but so badly she wanted to communicate that I couldn't just curl up into a fetal position every time events took a turn for the worse. She wanted me to fight back, to never give up.

Of course, it was definitely easier said than done. After all, a murderer inhabited my body, without a hint of the human emotion we call compassion. Did he even care about what evil acts he had committed all for the sake of sadism? As far as I could tell, there was no end to what the spirit of the ring would be willing to do.

And those kinds of people, the ones without any sense of empathy, ethics, or a conscious, are the most dangerous.

Visions of my smashed piano and dripping blood churned in my mind. Days earlier I had eventually willed myself to pick up the piano pieces and transfer them into the garbage dump, not bothering to salvage any of it. To keep a part, even something as trivial as a piano key, would be a bitter souvenir of the power Nameless had over me.

I vaguely felt the chill of the ring's icy metal resting against my chest.

It began to rain harder outside. Heavy raindrops ceaselessly pelted the roof of the church, reminding me of bullets smashing into a tin can. I glanced up in mild interest, noticing how the dim lights flickered occasionally.

The stained glass windows engulfing the church sparkled like gems in the glittering light. The way the vibrant fragments would illuminate, it was like a dancing fire was swirling from the inside of the glass. Vacant eyes of apostles and angels alike sprung to life, glittering with their omniscience.

It almost made me wonder, could they see right through me? Did even inanimate objects know that I hosted a killer inside of me and fought so desperately hard to keep it a secret?

Did they recognize that no secrets can be hidden from God?

A flash of lightning made the kaleidoscopic images before me glimmer brighter than before. The shadows contouring all the faces appeared edgier, angrier. How condescendingly they looked down on me!

I shuddered, no longer willing to stare into the unnerving faces that appeared to scream accusations with their insightful eyes. And the way every depicted man, every messenger of God, would raise his hands up to the sky…

As if merely asking for salvation would bring it.

I was torn out of my thoughts when the song finally ended with its concluding stanza:

"_Do not be far from me,  
For trouble is near,  
And there is no one to help._"

Silence slowly crept through the church as the song came to its dismal close. The congregation remained in quiet contemplation, reflecting on the hymn until the priest raised his arms in acknowledgment, similar to the stained glass figures, and proceeded the service in prayer.

I didn't bother listening, for a timid idea sprung up in my mind.

What if I _told_ someone about Nameless's actions from a few nights ago? What if I didn't have to carry the burden of hiding such a horrific secret? If I could just tell someone, _anyone_…

And so I sat there, watching, patiently waiting for the mass to conclude. It was sort of nice, resting there, pretending that I had a concept as powerful as God on my side. In a way I felt safe, as if there would be no way that Nameless could assume control of my body in a place as sacred as a church. For once I ignored the way the ring would cling to my skin like a parasite, imagining that I had the power to wake up from this nightmare at any time.

Twenty minutes or so seemed to pass relatively quickly, in a hurry to drag me out of my wishful fantasy world. I didn't know mass was over until I began to notice people gathering their belongings and leaving, heading out to continue their everyday lives. Soon colorful umbrellas were popped open as individuals ventured outside, braving the tumultuous weather.

Reluctantly I stood up, taking my weathered paper bag containing my breakfast with me. My stomach, as if on cue, started to growl in protest, but instead of exiting like everyone else, I headed over to the very back of the church where an isolated room resided.

Interesting, how the cascading raindrops from the outside made the angels trapped in the stained glass seem like they were crying.

The room I had brought myself to was closed. There was a light shining above the ancient wooden door, looking strongly similar to a traffic light. One half of it was green while the other was red. Observing that the green half was lit, I reached for the door handle, preparing to open it.

I have a memory from my childhood. It was back when my father insisted on attending church with my sister and I. It wasn't much later from when my mother had passed away, and my father claimed that going to mass every Sunday and learning about God was what my mother would have wanted.

Even though my mother was an atheist.

How do I know this? It was one of the many reasons that my grandparents disowned her. I distinctly recall receiving a letter from my grandmother once, "inviting" me to visit in Liverpool. The envelope was actually sealed in wax, pressed with her own _logo_. I couldn't believe it. And how did she find my address? My father and I must have moved at least five times. I suppose that like Magnus Cleaver, rich people have a strange ability to slink around until they find what they want.

It was about a year ago. Why my grandmother randomly decided that that was a good time to pop into my life I have no clue. But my favorite lines in the letter were these:

"_Please, if you feel so compelled, come and visit your grandparents, who have been so anxious to meet you and your sister. We would love to see how your sadly misguided, atheist mother has raised you both. Allow us the pleasure of witnessing how you have grown from a mud puddle, Ryou dearest._"

For honesty's sake, I laughed when I had finished reading the letter. It was so repulsively comical. If only they knew both my mother and Amane were dead.

Enclosed in this letter was a ridiculous sum of money. It could have been for airfare expenses, but it didn't matter to me.

I thoroughly enjoyed cremating that letter in addition to the money, watching the red wax sluggishly drip off the envelope that was probably more expensive than my shoes.

My apologies- that was absurdly off topic. Going back to my father, he dragged both Amane and I to mass every Sunday, perhaps believing that going to church would somehow help turn our lives around. Or maybe it was his penance for not being there when my mother was killed. Either way, I felt his efforts were pointless. I mean, how could he expect his children to willingly attend church and believe every word spoken while he didn't believe in anything himself?

Even when my father went off on his extended trips he made sure the nannies continued taking both my sister and I to church. Week after week after _week_. And eventually, even when he was home, my father didn't bother to attend mass with us- he said he was just too "tired."

Maybe my father wasn't so concerned about his own soul after all.

Maybe he was just concerned about _mine_. Or Amane's. Perhaps he feared the murder of our mother could have planted a seed for evil in our young minds.

And, coincidentally, during that phase in my life when I was force-fed religion, I had been caught doing something that my father was horrifically ashamed of.

Stealing.

It was just a plain deck of playing cards. I was around six at the time, and as I was grocery shopping with my father, I came across an aisle packed with random cheap toys and hoards of candy. Really, today I think that these sorts of aisles are put in to annoy the living daylights out of parents.

But for some odd reason I was compelled to get those deck of cards. They just looked so colorful, and I remembered seeing people dealing with similar cards on TV, suavely thumbing and flicking cards in such a mesmerizing way. In a simple child's mind, I suppose I wanted to look that "suave" too.

"_Dad_." I had stopped in front of my desired item, refusing to move until my father had looked back. It was one of those rare times when my father was actually doing the grocery shopping, taking me along with him. He must have felt I was old enough to handle myself in public.

For the time being, he was wrong.

"What, Ryou?" My father had impatiently asked as his eyes followed the direction mine were glued to.

"Can I have them?"

"No." And then my father had continued walking, trudging the cart with the squeaky wheel along. I had stared after him in momentary silence.

Children are crafty. The way I saw it, I could have done one of several things. First, I could have created a scene. Cry, maybe shout how my father hated me, cry some more until enough people would look over and my father would grudgingly give in.

Second, I could have used some sort of bribe. Perhaps offer a truce. If I didn't ask for anything else- including the gum in the gumball machine- I could have the cards.

Or…

Or I could pretend as if I had moved on, letting my father continue with his shopping, and when his back was turned, I could simply take the cards.

Just like that.

It was just too easy. No one was around. My father wasn't even paying any attention toward me. I could just reach out and grab the cards, pocket them, and move on.

And so I did.

Too bad I left all my newly obtained cards lying around the house later that day. It was then that my father realized that perhaps going to church was not enough.

I soon became familiar with the practice of confession. Or as the Christians call it, "Reconciliation."As punishment for stealing a deck of cards- not likely to be worth more than a pound- I had to sit in an awkwardly tiny confession room and tell a priest about all the "sins" that I had committed. This went on every week for months.

Needless to say I used to know the entire ritual of confession by heart. But that was years ago which brings me back to the present, where I stood before the very room I swore to myself that I would never step foot in again.

I vaguely remembered a priest explaining to me when a green light was lit above a confession room, it indicated that a clergyman was in there, ready to listen.

And there the green light glowed, daring me to enter.

I noticed that my heart had suddenly picked up its pace and commenced hammering away inside of my ribcage. I hesitated before I opened the door, wondering if Nameless could detect my apprehension. I threw this thought aside as I swallowed my fear and willed myself to enter the room.

Thankfully, there was a wall separating me and the priest; otherwise, I probably wouldn't have been able to even tell him something as insignificant as not eating enough fruits and vegetables in a day. It was better this way…I couldn't bear to look a priest right in the eye and tell him what I intended to.

"Good morning, my child. What has brought you here today?" The priest's words made me jump in alarm.

Wiping my brow, I hesitated, as my mind scattered to form a sentence.

"Um, good morning, Father," –is that what you call a priest?- "I'm here to…to confess my sins."

Well, obviously. Why else would I be there?

I could faintly see the outline of the priest through a veiled screen. Nodding his head, he said, "And so you are. We open our hearts and will pray for God's divine forgiveness in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit…"

He then fell silent. I quickly glanced over at the wall separating us, uncertainty washing over me.

"…Amen?" I very slowly enunciated, hesitant.

I saw him nod his head again in affirmation. "Amen," he agreed. "May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in his mercy…"

The priest then continued on to read a brief passage from the Scripture as I tried to stifle my galloping heart. What was I doing? Was I really going to go through with this? What if Nameless found out…?

I heard the priest voice the sign of the Cross, followed by another string of silence.

Was this the part where I confessed my sins…?

"You may commence your confession."

Oh.

I felt blood rush up to my temples, slowly and powerfully throbbing. I was so conflicted. Should I be entirely honest? Maybe I should just tell only part of the truth. But I was already in there…

"I-I'm sorry, I haven't done this in a really long time," I softly began, afraid if I spoke too loud Nameless would have heard me, "But I really need to- to get this off my chest…"

Well, it was a start. I suppose "this" could count for both my guilt and the ring.

"My child, nothing is too big to be kept a secret, especially from God. Tell me whatever it is that ails you."

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with as much air as I could take in. It now felt like my heart had risen up to my head, pounding ceaselessly in my brain.

"I…I think…"

I had to swallow as my vision began to blur. I had to do this.

I couldn't keep it all to myself any longer.

"I think I killed someone."

I heard a startled gasp emerge from the priest, for even he was unable to contain such a revelation.

I could tell he was desperately fighting for composure. His voice descended into a harsh incredulous whisper. "What…did you just say?"

"_Ryou_…" I heard a familiar voice hiss dangerously in my ear. In response, the ring lying against my chest awakened, pricking its pinnacles into my skin. Nameless was warning me.

So he was listening after all. The whole time.

I bit my lip in frustration as I squeezed my eyes shut. "_I can't let this pass. You robbed someone's life and I can't rest knowing that you could easily do it again._"

I heard the faintest scoff from the spirit, not amused enough to be his usual chuckle. "_But, foolish Ryou, that was only to punish you for your actions. If you had only behaved-_"

"_Don't you __**dare**__ turn this on me!_" I exclaimed, anger welling up inside of me, "_You're a monster and everything is all your fault-!_"

"_Oh, 'everything' now? Who was the one who simply sat there and watched idly as I would trap countless of souls into your silly little board game…?_"

I was so enraged, I wanted to cry. Instead I turned my attention back to the priest. "I mean, it wasn't _me_, there's this demon living inside of me-"

Faster than I could finish my sentence, Nameless forced my soul out of consciousness and snatched away the control that I had.

I blacked out for hardly a moment, regaining my bearings again when my eyes were greeted with the eccentric colors that existed only in my soul room.

My eyes darkened as I watched leaves endlessly rain from the sky, spinning like toy paratroopers and blanketing the ground.

I was laying face down, the earthy soil pressing against my cheek. I blinked in disbelief. Instead of revealing to a priest about the genuinely evil soul that I shared a body with, there I was, stuck once again inside of my soul room.

Letting out a cry of frustration, I slammed my fists down into the ground. If only there was a way to get _out_…

I let my eyes seal shut as I merely laid there, scarcely moving. The sound of a grand piano trailed through the breezy air, playing an eerie and brooding piece that seemed to contradict the blindingly bright sun that I was shielding my eyes against when I closed them.

And then I heard _him_. Like a person talking loudly on the other side of the door, I heard Nameless communicating with the priest, doing a horrible impersonation of me.

It was like a slap to the face.

"_Well, that is, in my __**dream**__. Goodness no, I would never harm anyone! But I am a tad worried, is it a sin to dream of killing someone…? I am just so horribly ashamed…_"

I heard the priest heave a sigh of relief as he offered his two-cents. "_Well no it is not my child, but sometimes, you need to recognize that dreams can be an indicator to your inner frustration…_"

My face twisted in disgust as I turned my head away, refusing to listen to any more.

…

Did the spirit of the ring honestly think that I talked like that…?

And then, impulsively, I got to my feet, rushing over to the door that led to Nameless's soul room. I made sure to not look through the eye-shaped 'peephole,' not wanting to witness how badly Nameless was imitating me.

I began to harshly pound on the door. "Spirit! Let me out! You can't get away with this! Let me out _now_!"

I continued to incessantly bang my fists against the impenetrable wooden frame, shouting similar sentiments, failing to notice that Nameless had cut my session with the priest short by barely offering an excuse to his sudden departure.

Unexpectedly, the door I had been pounding on burst open, nearly hitting me in the face.

A strangled gasp got caught in my throat as I jumped back as if electrocuted.

And there he was.

Nameless stood before me, staring down at me with steely cold eyes. He looked like a dangerous combination of irritated, disgusted, enraged and somehow indifferent, all at once. It was enough to make my blood freeze over.

It was also the first time I had ever seen the spirit of the ring apart from my body. I was left speechless as I looked up at Nameless, almost with a sense of horrified awe. There were some obvious differences, such as his looming height and infinitely stronger build, but there were more subtle disparities as well. For one, his posture was undoubtedly much more confident than mine. The way he kept his chest protruding, his head tilted slightly to the side in mockery…and his arms, which were resolutely folded, could scarcely conceal his bulging muscles. And his sneer…he seemed to have the expression of someone who knew more about you than _you_ did plastered on his sharply contoured face.

I think the most disconcerting facet to his appearance was his eyes. They were a murky shade of red, similar to dried blood. Within those pools of hell lurked a maniacal tint, indicating to me that yes, he was perfectly capable of murder without feeling the tiniest spark of guilt.

And then a thought dawned on me- could Nameless actually touch me in my soul room? I mean, he was just a spirit, right? But then again, in there, I was too….

Finally, Nameless spoke.

"You are a bigger idiot than I had once thought. What, did you honestly believe that a priest could do some pathetic exorcism on you or something to be rid of me?"

He then took a step closer in my direction; I took a step back.

"Here's a clue…" Nameless continued, observing me intently, "Not gonna happen. It would never work. You can't get rid of me that easily. In fact, you will _never_ be able to make me leave. Your body is my property as well. Now stop this rebellious nonsense immediately. Unless of course if the death of one person isn't enough for you."

I finally snapped out of my shock enough to speak. "H-how did you get in here? There's no way that-"

Nameless ignored my question as he proceeded to walk closer to me. It was more like a prowl, really. His eyes burned with malicious conviction.

Unflinchingly, Nameless lashed out and grabbed a handful of my hair. I winced, feeling nausea rise up from my stomach and causing my entire body to shake uncontrollably.

Admittedly, his grip didn't really hurt, but rather he used it to tilt my head up. He was alarmingly close, _far_ too close for my comfort. It was like a lion having its massive paws on its victim's throat.

Molten russet eyes seared into my own.

"Look at me, Ryou Bakura. I am very much real. I am not some fleeting voice that you hear in the darkness of the night. This isn't going to go away on its own. This isn't a 'bad' dream. So I _insist_ that you wake up and deal with it. This is your life, now it's about time that you accept it." He then released me, letting me tumble to the ground.

I clutched at the earthen floor underneath me, letting the dirt seep between my fingers. So badly I wished I could just stop shaking.

What happened to all the words I had thought of earlier to shout in retort? Why did every insult, every brave accusation, escape me all too willingly?

I did, however, muster up enough courage to look back up at Nameless. In turn, he stared back down at me, his lips pressed together in revulsion.

"So _this_ is what happened to the other half of my cursed soul," Nameless spat, his eyes swimming with contempt.

I was too shaken with the fact that the spirit had gotten so close to me to come up with a response. I just remained in the spot where I had fallen, uncomprehendingly watching Nameless turn on his heel sharply and leave. The door slammed with a sickening smash.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I returned home in a daze a little later, realizing that I had forgotten my éclairs in the church with a feeling of dismay washing over me. So much for breakfast.

As it turned out, it was perhaps a good thing that I didn't have anything in my stomach as I burst through my apartment door, for I was greeted with a very indigestible surprise.

"Ryou! I was wondering where you were. How are you doing, son?" My father gave me a smile, an oddly pleased smile, as he clapped me on the back.

I blankly stared at him.

What was my father doing here? He was never home…

"Father…hi," was all I managed to choke out. I also wanted to ask him, _"Why are you here?"_ but bit my tongue.

"I just got back from a conference. And you'll never guess what happened."

"What." I couldn't bring myself to even sound curious. My mind was swarming with too many other thoughts and, I won't even try to lie, annoyance. After all, since when had my father ever looked so… _cheerful_? He reminded me of a salesman from an infomercial persuading his audience to buy a 'magic' hand sweeper that could vacuum anything. Could it even suck off the smile on my father's face?

"Ryou, I got a promotion! Isn't that fantastic? My hard work is finally paying off." My father's smile was still plastered on his face.

And since when did my father ever say the word "fantastic"?

"That's great, really. So does that mean that you'll be working even more, or-"

"Oh, no, definitely not. On the contrary, I'll be working far less! I've been transferred over to a local museum that collaborates with my firm so now I'll be helping out with the management there."

"You mean the museum right next to Domino High?"

"Exactly. My hours will be far more regular, which means I'll be home a lot more often."

I felt the color drain from my face as his words registered. This couldn't have been happening.

The spirit of the ring was a murderer and _now_ my father wanted to stay close to home?

"You must be happy," was all I had managed to say as I smiled weakly. I could feel the corners of my mouth slightly wavering.

My father took no notice of this, abruptly turning on his heel as he headed into the kitchen. "Oh, I am, Ryou. Hey, I just made some coffee. Would you like some?"

"You know I don't drink coffee."

"Oh, right. Just figured your tastes grew up a little, that's all."

I heard the sound of coffee pouring. The way my father was acting so casual, so conversational, was driving me mad.

"Say, did you hear the news?"

My eyes trailed over to the kitchen area wearily. "What news?"

I heard a refrigerator briskly open and close. "You know, about the disappearing high school student? He was around your age, I think."

I ignored an alarming thought that fleetingly dashed through my mind. "Doesn't that sort of thing happen all the time?"

"Not in Japan, no. Apparently crimes are considered far more taboo here than in the U.K. Especially in suburbs like Domino."

"He…he was from Domino?"

"Domino High, yes. I believe he was a junior? That's your grade, Ryou, maybe you would recognize his name." I failed to correct my father that I was actually a sophomore, too occupied with my previous suspicion which was now coming to me as a badly tuned radio station on maximum volume.

Carefully balancing a cup of coffee and a pastry in one hand, my father made a beeline for the television in the living room as he went to turn it on.

Coincidentally, far too coincidentally if you ask me, the TV answered my unspoken question before my father did.

"_Police are still searching for high school student Botan Nosaka, who has been missing for three days. Sources say that no evidence has been found of a perpetrator just yet…_"

An image of a frail teenage boy flashed on the TV momentarily. A pair of indigo eyes looked out vacantly from the screen, matched with a demure smile.

I was vaguely aware of my father rambling on about the tragedy of a parent losing a child, and how it was "such a shame," but I couldn't bring myself to fully listen. With eyes glued to the television screen, my mind began to reluctantly connect the pieces together.

I _knew_ that Nameless murdered someone three days ago. About two days ago, _I_ had thrown away the piano pieces stained with blood, taking away all the evidence that went with it. Did that one thoughtless move just buy Nameless a ticket to undeserved innocence?

But I often forget, the spirit of the ring's fate is _my_ fate, too.

Did that mean, if I had confessed to the priest, or if I had confessed to _anyone_ about Nameless's actions, that I would be the one to suffer the consequences?

"_Your life is my life, Vessel…_" I heard a faint whisper, "_And my life is yours…_"

Despite the chill that washed over my body, I was getting used to Nameless randomly interjecting into my thoughts. And for once, I didn't feel like responding to his words. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. And besides, with my father in the room, who knows if I would have been able to contain my conversation merely in my head while keeping a completely neutral facial expression. I didn't need my own father to question my sanity as well.

"Yup, it's really a shame with that boy's family, too…" my father continued, rousing me out of my thoughts, "Make sure you say your condolences to Botan's sister, you hear? These sort of things just don't happen that often in Domino."

Miho Nosaka. I _barely_ remembered her. She was that shy, quiet girl- almost as quiet as me- whom Honda had obsessed over every day in school.

"Did you guys notice? Miho changed the color of the ribbon in her hair-!", "Did you see how she smiled at me at lunch?", "When they called attendance in class today, I swear, Miho's voice is the most beautiful of all…"

Such is the ways of someone who has fallen victim to love. And personally, I hope it _never_ happens to me. How else could a masculine, war-obsessing jock turn into the latest Shakespeare…?

In any case, I knew that Miho was a fellow classmate in my grade, and she definitely did not deserve to suffer for the inconceivable actions of the ring. No one did.

And what I'd like to know, is why am _I_ the one to feel so utterly responsible for the people Nameless had come into contact with?

As if his actions were my actions.

And that scares me.

___________________________________________________

A/N: I was once told that when a writer needs reviews, then he/she must be a bad writer. Therefore, as a bad writer, I am asking that you review because I neeeed them! :)

And now, a Fanficcer's Mantra:

**This is something you should do,  
If you've read it, YOU REVIEW!!!**


	8. The Contradiction of Resolution

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh! If I did, admittedly, there would probably be far less Duel Monsters. So I guess I'm just a fanatic of the characters :)

A/N: Hey all! In honor of a very belated Halloween chapter update, I made the first scene particularly creepy… if you ever look on my profile page, you'll know that I was debating whether to do a Halloween one-shot or continue updating this story. Instead, I got wrapped up in a fanfiction meme project that I immersed myself in, hence delaying this update. It's all good though- at least I'm far surpassing my prediction that I wouldn't update 'til Christmas! Also, please note that I cut the length of this chapter in half (again), so I can give you quicker updates. If you would rather have longer segments, let me know and I can definitely make that happen!

**Heads up!** From this point on, you may come across scenes that are third-person omniscient. Why? Well, writing strictly in first person, I am strongly limited in what I can reveal so for the sake of the story, some scenes may be edging out of first person and into third. Don't worry, it will _not_ happen often.

Of course, thanks to all of you with your motivating/inspirational/oh-so-kind reviews! They make me smile and remind me why I write on fanfiction :)

Chapter Eight: The Contradiction of Resolution

_It was white, impossibly white. The pristine floors gleamed as a killer's smile would after a committed crime. Various scalpels, needles, gauze and other surgical utensils were strewn across cold marble counters, glistening off the jarring florescent lights that lined the ceiling. _

_There were surgical assistants preparing the room- six of them in total. Five of them were leisurely arranging and rearranging tools that would be needed for their next operation. The last one was purposefully adjusting the straps to the patient who lied on the surgical bed. Although half-hidden behind a surgical mask and a white cap, brilliant royal blue eyes stood out amongst the range of colorless attire. Her unnerving eyes grazed over the patient, a young teenage boy, and smiled reassuringly at him. It was almost patronizing. _

_The teenage boy was trembling harshly. Bare skin greeted the icy sterile air, with only a thin paper sheet covering up the second half of his body. Goosebumps trailed along the boy's exceedingly pale arms, confined by sturdy leather straps. The heart monitor, hooked up to the terrified patient, beeped frantically. _

_The sound of brisk footsteps was heard from the hallway. They echoed faintly around the room as the assistants all glanced up expectantly. _

"_Get in your places, __**now**__," A man with startlingly vibrant plum-colored eyes commanded. Everyone nodded their heads and lined up on either side of the patient, looking towards the door where the sound of footsteps grew louder. Each half second where shoe contacted the barren tile floor sounded like a cannon being fired throughout the vacant hospital. _

_The boy's dark cedar eyes searchingly scanned the people who surrounded him for any indication that there was a trace of sympathy. Instead, placid blank faces stared straight ahead, not paying him the slightest attention. _

_Suddenly, the door burst open, quickly followed by a tall, sturdy looking man with a sense of severe purpose. His icy hair whipped across his angular face, smoothed over with a resolute facial expression. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, almost a grimace._

_Then, deliberately, his russet colored eyes glanced down at the patient, the first human being to truly look at him. _

_This man was familiar to the patient, and it was a strange sight for him to see that the man wasn't dressed in his usual smirk. His eyes were humorless, yet held subtle traces of his innate hostility. _

"_What is the diagnosis?" The man finally demanded, shattering the tense silence. His ruby-stained cloak, which was lavishly trailing behind him, fluttered down to a halt when he stopped in front of the boy. It looked odd to him, how this man was the only one not in white. It looked like a splotch of blood on a white shirt. _

"_Doctor, he has no heart," An assistant briskly stated. His amethyst eyes flashed with intrigue. _

"_Oh, really?" The man in the red cloak murmured, mostly to himself, "Then why is it that the monitor is picking up a heartbeat?" As if on cue, the beeps being emitted from the monitor increased in frequency. _

"_We assure you, there's nothing there," a young woman with cerulean eyes affirmed, casually brushing her fringe of brunette bangs away. The rest of the group nodded their heads in agreement. _

_The man remained silent for a brief instant. Then, tilting his head at a slight angle, evaluated his subject. _

"_What do you think, Ryou? Is this true?" A hint of a smile was beginning to tinge the man's lips._

_The teenage boy, Ryou, desperately shook his head as he choked back a chest-convulsing spasm. He knew if he allowed himself to cry, he would never be able to defend himself. _

"_N-no! There's nothing wrong with me- I'm perfectly normal!" Ryou sputtered out, struggling to sound coherent. His fear was strangling his thoughts and actions. _

_The small group of assistants chuckled at the boy's words. _

"_Then it appears __**your**__ definition of 'normal' and ours vary greatly," a man with a mass of golden blond hair said bluntly, sneering with expressionless eyes. _

"_I think he needs to undergo the procedure, Doctor," the woman with the royal blue eyes finally piped up, after the laughter died down. She began to roll out a metal cart with a tray full of surgical tools. _

_Shocked, the boy turned his head to look at the woman. _

"_Amane…why are you doing this?" he barely whispered through pale lips. His dark eyes were wide with desperation, beseeching of compassion. _

_The woman shook her head in response, looking at the man in the red cloak for his command. _

"_I suppose there is only one way to find out…" the leader of the group affirmed. He then reached into the pocket of his cloak to pull out a pair of latex gloves. Tugging them on, he nodded his head slowly. _

"_Scalpel."_

_The man with the plum-colored eyes grasped the tool from the tray and handed it to the one who had requested it. _

_The boy's eyes widened in horror as he began to squirm against his confines. "No, stop! Don't do this! I __**have**__ a heart, I would know! I can feel it! __**Stop**__!" _

"_Shut him up, will you." The man in red, now holding the scalpel, used it to gesture over to a counter where a roll of medical tape lied. _

"_Gladly," confirmed the young male with the amethyst eyes as he snatched the tape off the counter. Ripping off a long piece, he brought it up to the patient's mouth and sealed it shut. _

_It became impossibly hard for the boy to breathe. _

_He could hear the heart monitor across the room practically screaming in protest. It was intolerably loud- why couldn't anyone hear it? _

"_Did you give him the anesthesia?" _

"_Who cares?" came the automatic response from a man with harsh brown eyes. He exchanged a knowing glance with the blond-haired man who stood next to him. Sinister grins began to darken their features drastically. _

"_Ah, I guess you're right. Then let us find out if Ryou really has a heart, shall we?" At this, the cloaked man placed the tip of his scalpel against the bare flesh in the middle of the patient's chest. _

_The boy could immediately feel the harsh prick of the metal poking into him before any incisions were made. _

_It was enough to induce a wave of terror to wash over him._

_The boy squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth to stifle the piercing scream that was bubbling from within his throat. He knew a world of pain was about to ensue. _

_With a meticulously accurate precision, the man in red used the scalpel to trail a long, straight line down the boy's chest. The patient's translucent flesh parted as if a zipper were being pulled, as a vibrant crimson blood sluggishly seeped out. It leisurely blanketed the boy's snowy skin, tainting it a sickly shade of syrupy fluid. _

_The boy began struggling fiercely, screaming through his sealed lips. Tears squeezed out of his shut eyes, slipping down his flushed cheeks. _

_The pain was absolutely unbearable. _

"_How interesting," commented the cloaked man with eyes the same color as Ryou's blood. Searchingly, he reached into the writhing boy, probing around. "There is nothing."_

_He pulled his hand out, holding it up so the assistants in the room could see only blood cascade down his wrists. _

"_Well, then what happened to it?" the woman named Amane demanded. It appeared she, along with everyone else in the room, were completely ignoring the stifled shrieks of agony from their suffering patient. _

"_He must not have had one to begin with," The plum-eyed man with the deep voice hypothesized. _

_The cloaked surgeon looked down at his subject, watching him spasm against the straps that contained him. The man's face was devoid of any emotion, his eyes cold. _

"_No," he finally said, holding a hand to his own chest, "I have it."_

_All the boy could register at that point was the consistent, grating beeping of the heart monitor as it screamed to be heard. _

* * *

_BE-BEEP BE-BEEP BE-BEEEEEEEEP…._

My eyes snapped open at the horrendous sound of my alarm clock going off. In a confused, frantic panic that could only result from being entirely disoriented from sleep, I fell out of bed and slapped the little irksome device to silence it. I then allowed myself to collapse back into my twin-sized bed, heaving an exhausted sigh.

My dreams, or rather nightmares, horrified me. They always did. So many times I would fall into an entire night of rest, only to awaken feeling completely drained of all my energy. How tempted I was, every ungodly early morning, to sleep in just ten more minutes.

But then, as I would close my eyes, I would hear the screams again.

So I force my depleted body, day after day, to rise from my bed, readying myself to go to school.

A hoarse groan emerged from my throat as I strained my eyes to open once more. I didn't even know if I had the strength, or will, to get up this time. Mondays were always the hardest.

Somewhat reflexively, I brushed my hand against my abdomen to feel for the ring that usually rested there.

In less than a second's time, I realized that two things were wrong.

My eyes fully snapped open at this realization, suddenly alert.

One, the ring was missing. It wasn't anywhere on me. I quickly winged my arms out probingly, wondering if I had accidentally torn apart the rope around my neck somehow.

I stared down at my lanky frame. I doubted it.

And then, of course, there was another problem that caused my head to begin throbbing with confusion.

Why was there a long scratch running down my torso? I could feel it the second my fingertips contacted my skin; it began to tingle as I felt a fleeting stab of pain.

As these two troubling thoughts scrambled around in my mind, I bolted out of my bed, heading over to the full-length mirror on my bedroom door to check the damage.

After unbuttoning my shirt, I let it slip to the ground as I stared disbelievingly at that long, ugly scratch. It didn't appear to be a scar, but at the same time, it looked as if I had been attacked with a knife mere hours ago and the blood had only just stopped running freely.

I hesitantly recalled the nightmare I had pulled myself out of. A scalpel, running down my chest, and blood, everywhere.

I felt the color slowly begin to drain from my face. There was just no way….

"_Idiot_. You need to calm your stupid self down. It is only a scrape," came the harsh voice that had ripped me out of my frenzied thoughts.

I whipped around instantly, recognizing that caustic voice.

"Spirit," I acknowledged, facing Nameless in his materialized form, "What-"

"-What happened?" he finished for me, a spark of amusement flashing in his eyes. His hands were placed defiantly on his hips, his head cocked in a superior sort of way. I shuddered at how his murky red eyes reminded me of my dream.

"Yes. Where did this scratch come from?" I demanded, trying to sound convincing with my unwavering voice. Instead, I sounded like an inexperienced grade school teacher accidently speaking to an adult like a four-year-old.

Nameless knew something that I did not, and that frustrated me. How could I be so unaware when we _shared_ the same body?

"It was a trivial street fight," Nameless answered dismissively, casually flicking a hand away, "Foolish mortals do not know when danger smacks them in the face."

I remained silent for a long moment, trying to let his words register.

"What…what do you _do_ when I'm sleeping?" was all I could cleverly come up with. I was completely appalled. He actually roamed the streets in my body while I slept away?

"What I choose to do while you are out of the way does not concern you," Nameless asserted, staring me down. "But I will say this: while I was doing some…let's just call it 'investigating,' I had come across some irritating victims who did not know whom they were dealing with."

My mind was boiling over with far too many questions, yet I chose to ask one that particularly bothered me. "So then why does my body look like it has been through a slaughterhouse?"

Unexpectedly, Nameless burst out into a harsh, fleeting laugh. "Ah, Vessel, you never fail to entertain me…let's say that you should be thanking me for being able to function in your weak body."

"If you had never been on the streets to begin with, it would have never happened," I pointed out. "And may I ask…_where_ is the ring?"

"And may I just say, your newfound boldness is irritating me," Nameless voiced, imitating my tone with a glint of mockery.

I felt my cheeks begin to flush with a mixture of embarrassment and resentment as I opted to turn away in search of my school uniform. In my chagrin I remained silent.

"Did that hurt your feelings?" Nameless derisively inquired, inclining his head. "My apologies."

"Just go away," I finally snapped, snatching a new uniform from an opened drawer. I trailed over to the joining bathroom, slamming the door shut.

It was right when I had hastily finished fastening the final button on my jacket that Nameless had appeared beside me yet again.

"You ask of me the impossible," he casually said. He was far too close for my comfort, nearly leaning over my shoulder. It was a good thing that he was only a spirit, and not a human being in the flesh.

I almost scoffed at the thought of "Nameless" and "human" going together. It was such a contradiction.

"And why is that impossible?" I found myself asking, regardless that I had resolved to limit my conversation with him scarcely a minute ago. Almost subconsciously, I took a step farther away from the spirit who lingered behind me.

I _knew_ he was up to something.

It was strange, seeing Nameless seeming to struggle with conjuring up his next words. He was so calculating, and yet he never spent even an extra second in silence…he would _never_ want someone to know that he was trying to formulate his words to be as conniving as possible. However, in the reflection of the mirror, I could see that millisecond of pensive thought flashing across his otherwise arrogant face.

And that's where the tables had turned, albeit momentarily.

"I will tell you only what I have to," Nameless briskly began. The hand that I had outstretched for a toothbrush was paralyzed in midair, for my curiosity had my attention directed towards the spirit's words.

"In the midst of my little 'brawl,' the bastard I was trying to dispose of attempted to slash me with his pocketknife….whether it was in defense or out of pure intimidation, I do not care. He didn't inflict any real damage, of course, but he did manage to sever the cord that keeps the ring around your neck."

Although that explained why I had an incision running down my chest, I was still at a relative loss. "And this would be relevant because…?"

Nameless's eyes burned with irritation. "Because now I am unable to use your body."

Despite my previous sour mood, I found myself fighting back a spiteful smile. "Where's the tragedy?"

"You disrespectful _brat_-!" Nameless swung out his arm to strike me, yet of course it went through me.

I saw his face darken to a scowl.

Even though Nameless clearly couldn't hurt me, I took another step away from him, praying he didn't hear my thudding heart. "I hope you realize that if you want me to comply, trying to hit me isn't the best way to win me over. In fact, it isn't the best way to win _anyone_-"

"_Listen_." Nameless's command came out as a labored sigh and a growl. "I don't have the patience for this. Just find another rope for the ring so you can put it back on. The ring is on your desk."

I found it at least mildly gratifying, in a snide way, how quickly the spirit's emotions transitioned from smug to livid. I didn't dare communicate my musings, though.

"So how were you able to get back to my apartment if the ring is disconnected?" I finally reached out for my toothbrush and squeezed a generous blob of spearmint toothpaste onto it.

I could tell the spirit was angered by my apparent waning span of attention. It was all an act, of course, but Nameless showed no indication that he knew. Perhaps it was because he couldn't read my thoughts anymore.

And unlike before, he lacked the option of merely possessing my body to get it to do whatever he pleased.

"I only retain so much spiritual power, and I had just enough energy to drag your sorry excuse for a body home. Now you _must_ do as I say. Immediately." Nameless was giving me an expectant look, his eyes piercing through me while I attempted to brush my teeth.

I remained silent for a little while, possibly taking a little too much time with my morning routine while I pondered potential responses to Nameless's request. I was, after all, getting considerably good at ignoring unnerving stares.

I spat out the foam.

"No," I finally stated. In a resolute sort of way, I placed my blue toothbrush back in its holder.

I heard a strange mixture between a hiss and a snarl as Nameless took a persuasive step closer to me.

"How _dare_ you act this way. Have you forgotten what I am capable of? I _murdered_ someone, and believe me, I have done so _many_ more times before that. Is that not enough to prove to you of the danger you're in if you disobey me?" Nameless asserted, clenching his fists.

To be honest, it doesn't matter how familiar I become to the spirit's ways, I will always have a sense of uncertainty about him. I never entirely know how he will choose to act.

So I took a gamble.

"But…would you really choose to hurt me?" I asked slowly. "I mean this…this is your body too." I winced, loathing the words that came from my mouth. However, I wanted to sound convincing, so sacrifices had to be made.

"That's up for you to decide," Nameless answered smoothly, without blinking. "Although I think it's quite clear that I can be as drastic as possible if I find it necessary."

I suddenly remembered the brief instant when the spirit tried to strike me with his arm.

But then again, I'm pretty sure he was aware of his transparent state.

Could his physical aggression be just a façade?

As if to answer my question, an image of my bloodied, shattered piano flickered in my mind.

Another image, even more fleeting, of my previous nightmare slashed through my thoughts. The blinding whiteness of everything and the spirit, cloaked in red, tainting the scene.

A wave of nausea abruptly crashed over me, flooding my insides with repulsion. Fear.

It all happened so fast.

And then it became so blatantly clear to me, more distinct than the red on white from my dreams, that I was so entirely, alarmingly stupid.

Realization had finally smacked me hard in the face.

There I was, talking to a _murderer_, as if he were a regular human being. I had almost forgotten the fact that he had killed Miho's brother without even the tiniest spark of remorse.

He was a psychopath.

And I was actually _considering_ putting that cursed ring back over my head.

"You…you _would_ hurt- _kill_- anyone to get what you want," I finally breathed, voicing my thoughts. "People are not living things to you. They're…they're _objects_ to manipulate." As I heard my own words, the reality of the situation was becoming all too tangible.

"And I was beginning to wonder what was wrong with you," Nameless grinned in his Cheshire way. "Now, listen to me and put the ring back on."

"_No_." It was all I could manage to choke out, but I lashed it out in the most detestable way possible.

The bathroom began to feel like it was caving in on me, like it was far too small to house my erupting emotions.

Before my thoughts processed my actions, I was running _out_ of there, fleeing from the spirit who seemed to lurk in every crevice of my agonized mind.

I didn't even pause to look back. Not even at the ring that beckoned me innocently from the polished surface of my desk.

No, instead I focused on dashing out of my room, past my father, down the stairs, and out of my apartment complex all within a record-breaking time of about five seconds. I barely even remembered snatching my school briefcase, or giving a hurried explanation to my father as to why I was out the door half an hour before school started.

I just shut my mind down and let my body react as it should have days ago.

* * *

Review…? :)


	9. Normal

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh! If I did, admittedly, there would probably be far less Duel Monsters, and more drama! Ryou Bakura, anyone…?

A/N: Hello again! This note may be more relevant than others! I wanted to first say THANK YOU again for the responses I have received for Ryou's Story. I have so many people who have favorited it, and it this makes me happy to no end! The reviews have been very kind and meaningful as well…so, readers, I adore you.

So for the previous chapter, did you notice that in Ryou's dream, all the "anonymous" people were actually Yuugi and his friends? (I hope so!) Just wanted to clarify so when a similar sequence may – or may not! It's whatever Ryou tells me to write ;) – occur, you will know.

And on a minor note, the Yu-gi-oh series seems to gravitate around a constant summer setting…and this doesn't make sense, considering that the events took place over the span of two years. Therefore, I reserve the right to make events occur in a setting as I best see fit :D

Chapter Nine- Normal

It was another wet and grey Monday. It was the first thing I had noticed upon rushing outside, as the biting, icy air embraced me while rain droplets occasionally flicked at me from brooding leaden clouds.

The weather's somber mood became even more apparent to me as my running had upset nearby puddles, splashing against my ankles and thoroughly soaking the bottom edge of my pants. For the moment I didn't care, as I forced my mind to remain focused on simply moving, not thinking.

I was more than happy to oblige to my own command. I knew that the moment I would stop and consider my actions, an overwhelming sense of panic would crash over me, practically paralyzing my entire body.

We all know that I can't merely _stop_ thinking for long.

That's like asking the sun to stop rising. Unlike the sun, however, my thoughts returned to me in a sudden jolt, as opposed to a much preferred gradual revealing.

Oh my God, what had I _done_?

I refused to comply with the spirit's wishes. I chose to be disobedient. It would be just like the time when I tried to steal back control over my body, during that Monster World game…

I would very much like to keep my hand perfectly intact, thank you very much.

I winced as my eyes instinctively flitted over to my still recovering hand. A faint circular scar stained against my otherwise pale skin, like a brand to an animal. Or an involuntary tattoo.

My pace had slowed down considerably since this unwelcome thought, as I further scrutinized the back of my hand. Impulsively, I flipped it over, palm side up, as if expecting it to move against my will. I allowed my fingers to grasp air, then open again to the bitter cold. I watched in ironic amusement as my hand twisted and rotated at my command. Without worrying about an extra soul battling for dominance.

That was when another thought coursed its way through me—I didn't have to put the millennium ring back on.

Who was going to make me?

It certainly couldn't have been _him_.

A strangled sort of laugh bubbled from my throat. It felt strange, to feel an inexplicable surge of joy erupt so suddenly. I ignored the annoyed or confused stares from passersby as a smile spread across my face. I felt ridiculous, smiling to myself without a friend to share the joke with, but it could not have been helped.

I really _didn't_ have to put the ring back on, did I?

Nameless lacked the energy to temporarily grasp control of my body—that had been robbed from him in his attempt to drag me back to my apartment, after his enigmatic brawl. I would have pondered on why the fight broke out in the first place, or what Nameless was after, but really, I did not care. Nameless could be out of my life for good.

Hundreds of visions popped in my head, like popcorn kernels exploding from a slow and constant heat. Ways to abolish the ring from my life. I could take the irksome piece of metal and drown it in a river—the water would make a lovely grave. Or I could watch it burn in a convenient little fire pit. Maybe donate it to the ground—six feet under wouldn't be enough! The possibilities were endless.

Naturally, I found myself slightly irritated when, of all times, I heard a familiar lively voice shout out my name.

"Bakura! Hey!" I cringed at the intensity of the voice at such an ungodly hour of the day as I hesitantly whirled around. I certainly knew who it belonged to.

"Yuugi…Anzu, Jounouchi…hello." I offered a brief nod to the trio of friends in recognition, first wondering why they were heading to school as early as I was, but became distracted by a more pertinent question.

"Where's Honda?" I had thrown in my question before any of the three would have the opportunity to ask how I was, in which case I would have to honestly answer I wasn't sure. I was thrilled, yet oddly petrified at the same time. And confused… suspicious, maybe?

"Oh! He's with Miho right now," Yuugi smiled warmly, still with an unusually high energy level. Jounouchi snatched the opportunity to add his own two cents.

"He's sucking up to her, of course. Trying to take advantage of a girl in distress." He accentuated this point with a wink, as if I had any indication of what he had been referring to.

"Jounouchi—" Anzu chastised in a disbelieving tone, quickly sucking in air, "Her brother's…you know…_gone_, this isn't really the time to be making fun. I'm sure she's in a lot of pain right now. I think they were really close."

I give credit to Anzu for being able to strip the conversation of all its lightheartedness in under five seconds. It is quite a gift.

Immediately Jounouchi ducked his head in mild discomfiture before offering a mumbled agreement.

Yuugi sighed at this, before changing the topic to a safer one. "So how are _you_, Bakura?" Or so he thought. Like I said, I really didn't want to think about my contradictory state of mind at the moment.

"Oh, I hardly think this is a time to be worrying about me, right now," I replied, brushing my answer off dismissively. I really didn't feel like going into specifics. Instead, I hit the ball back into Yuugi's court. "So…will Miho be all right?" I sincerely _did_ want to know if there was even a chance that she would overcome the situation. I definitely knew how easy it was to let a traumatizing experience consume one's life.

Yuugi hesitated, looking a little uncomfortable about answering the question, so Anzu cut in. "We don't know. She's obviously grieving. I'm surprised she's even planning on going to school right now. She apparently was the last person to _see_ her brother before he…before he…"

I nodded my head curtly in understanding, sparing Anzu from completing her thought. Why was she so afraid to say the word, "died"? Saying it, or not saying it, wouldn't alter the circumstances, now would it?

"It _is_ surprising that Miho's here," I alleged, allowing myself to trudge alongside the sidewalk with the small group. I spotted both Miho and Honda—who loomed closer than necessary—lingering by a crosswalk a short distance away. "Perhaps she wants to cope with it and move on with her life as quickly as possible." That would have been a relief. I didn't know the girl that well, but more than anything, I wanted her to be okay. In a major way, I guess _I_ was the one who felt responsible for her brother's death. Since Nameless clearly had no conscience of his own, I must be the one to repent for his actions.

I resolved to speak to Miho later. To get a better idea of what Miho was really thinking…I wanted to check the damage that really had been done.

"It's going to take more than a few days for Miho to get over Botan's death," Jounouchi suddenly pointed out with a dash of unusual soberness, ignoring Anzu's noticeable wince. "Have you really looked at her? She looks awful."

My eyes hesitantly retraced its steps back to where Honda and Miho remained.

I suppose there was truth in what Jounouchi said. Miho's usually vibrant lavender eyes just appeared…_grey_ to me. And wasn't there typically a subtle smile cornering her lips? It looked like a soiled eraser had been smudged over her face. A dark shadow seemed to be blanketing her entirely.

And there was Honda, who spoke with her in a hushed tone. I couldn't hear his words exactly—they were too far away—but I could tell they were kind. Comforting. His eyes even swarmed with an empathetic emotion I couldn't identify, especially on Honda's face.

But perhaps there was more to this person than I thought. Even though I was pretty sure he loathed me. But that was understandable, right? Did "I" not try to destroy his friends' lives? I suppose I'd be that livid as well, if only I had relationships that were meaningful enough to me…

"Bakura," Yuugi called back, pulling me out of yet another pensive moment. He reached out to lightly touch my arm, causing me to instinctively flinch. I watched as a passing look of confusion dashed across his face, before he offered me an assuring smile. "You're lagging behind," he commented, gesturing towards the increasing gap between us.

It appeared I had been so caught up with gawking at Miho and Honda that I forgot I was walking with people. It wasn't something I had been used to in the past.

"Oh, so I am," I distractedly said, making an extra effort to keep up my pace. "Sorry."

"You're an apologetic person, you know that?" Jounouchi prompted as he wagged a finger accusingly at me, "Stop excusing yourself all the time." I noticed both Yuugi and Anzu had nodded their heads in silent agreement at this.

"You're right," I acquiesced. I quickly stole another glance at the duo that was now making a motion to depart for the school building that towered a short distance away, egged on by the increasing ferocity of the rain. I particularly focused my stare at Miho's vacant, frighteningly hollow eyes.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

It was horrendous, embarrassing really. I couldn't remember the last time I felt my cheeks flush with such shame.

I was in the midst of my second class of the day—Composition—and already I was suffering the consequences of not having breakfast. Or dinner from the previous day.

_Grumble grumble groaaaaaaan…._

I placed my forehead against the coolness of my desk while tightly wrapping my arms around my stomach. Why must I be the victim to such humiliating circumstances? I was convinced the entire class was hearing the vocal complaints of my protesting stomach.

I could have sworn I even saw _Seto Kaiba_ shooting a glare in my direction.

Well, I suppose the appropriate question would be, who wasn't?

"To really improve with your essays, and future essays, you must practice consistently…" I vaguely heard the teacher, Ms. Soto, inform the class. I was impressed with how easily she was able to ignore my disruptions. It sounded like bombs were going off. I mean, my goodness, _I_ could hardly decipher what she was saying.

Well, at least Nameless wasn't there to further increase the degree of my humiliation. He would have probably been laughing at me. Or at least toss in a snide remark. That thought made me smile in spite of myself. He wasn't capable of doing either of these things because _he wasn't there_…

"And there's nothing _he_ can do about it," I whispered absentmindedly, briefly forgetting of my surroundings. I was ripped out of my rejoicing when again, I thought I saw Kaiba snatch another glare at me with his icy cobalt eyes. There was enough bitterness in them to freeze over the entire classroom, I was sure.

I tried to ignore him, and my rude stomach, of course, as I reluctantly drew my attention back to the front of the classroom.

"So for our final project, I want you to put a collection of works together as a portfolio," Ms. Soto announced, writing the due date on the dry erase board. A unified groan rippled throughout the room.

"Be thankful I'm not making you write an impromptu for your final grade," the teacher frowned, deliberately focusing her gaze on Jounouchi, who had groaned the loudest. "In which case, some of you would probably fail." Various snickers resounded from the room, the class collectively knowing who the weaker students were.

"In the meantime, I would encourage all of you to fit in as much practice as possible in your writing. It doesn't have to be academic. It could be maybe a blog, or a letter to a friend…"

"_Who writes letters anymore?_" Honda whispered to Jounouchi from behind me with an edge of amusement.

"_I dunno, man, I'm pretty sure __**you**__ would count if you had written your own damn love letter to Miho instead of making Yuugi do it_," Jounouchi half-heartedly retorted in a strained whisper. He had much difficulty keeping his voice level down.

"_Hey! Shut it! Why don't you let the whole class in on it?_" Honda hissed, ready to smack his friend. He was halted in his actions when the teacher lashed out her usual reprimand. I ignored this, unfazed, nestling back in my train of thoughts.

Huh. So Honda really liked Miho that much. I wasn't there for whatever incident Jounouchi was alluding to, although I'd bet it wasn't Honda's proudest moment. It was strange to me, how interested Honda seemed in this one girl. I mean, from what I could tell, they were polar opposites. What gravitated him to Miho?

For the hundredth time that day I'm sure, my eyes roamed over to the lilac-haired girl. Her head was bowed. From a distance it looked like she was deeply concentrating on her notebook.

However, I knew better than to judge from initial impressions.

A look closer proved that Miho's knuckles were blanched from clenching so tightly onto her pencil…I was afraid it would snap. Every few seconds her hands trembled ever so slightly.

Across the plane of her forehead, there was a strong crease stretching across it. Actually, her entire face seemed to be strained. There was a line dividing between her eyebrows. And she was biting her lip, as if she desired to draw blood.

It were as if all Miho's emotions were concentrated into one giant ball, violently bouncing around inside her frail body like a pinball machine.

I'm sure I've looked this way many times before. The instances when Nameless would stab another insult at me or knock my morale another notch lower….

Suddenly a burning desire to save this girl washed over me. I wanted to help her, since I too knew how it felt to be drowning in grief. So strongly I wanted to be the person to pull her out of the water.

Miho noticed my intense stare. And just like that, her bubble of reflection was popped, and she returned my stare with a confusing mix of emotion. It looked to me like mostly annoyance.

I felt a smile form in spite of myself. She reacted just as I would have.

Miho seemed caught off guard from my unusual behavior and finally, briskly glanced away. I wished I could have told her, right then, "_I need to speak with you_." But, this would have been impossible, since class still strolled on as leisurely as ever.

Finally, I allowed my attention to fall back on the teacher, reasoning that I should pay attention at least half of the time. She was writing a bunch of portfolio requirements on the board. The smell of dry erase ink wafted through the air, which made me feel especially nauseous.

Which of course, reminded my stomach: _Gurglegurglegrooooooowl…._

I sighed, once more placing my head on my desk.

* * *

"_Yes!_ They're having hamburgers today! Forget my packed lunch- I'm getting like five burgers!" Yuugi burst out elatedly as he eyed a random person's tray upon entering the cafeteria. He was literally bouncing with excitement as Anzu laughed at his enthusiasm.

It was finally- and I do mean _finally_- lunch. No surprise, I was starving. My stomach wasn't behaving any better during the rest of my classes; the worst part being, of course, that in Japan, one sticks with the same group of people throughout the day. I was sure that everyone thought I was starving myself on purpose. My rail-like frame didn't help my case.

"Anyone else getting in line?" Yuugi asked. He didn't really give anyone much of a chance to respond though, as he already turned on his heel to dash across the cafeteria.

"What a sprite!" Jounouchi grinned as he followed his friend's lead. He too, was excited for American food. He gave Honda a quick jab in the shoulder in recognition upon passing. Honda, in turn, lunged at the offender to retaliate, shouting, "You had this coming, you bastard, especially from second period!" It seemed rather dramatic, I think, yet I knew the two were completely joking around. To the uninformed, it looked like the notorious duo was really trying to kill each other.

Anzu exchanged a look with me before letting out a long sigh. "I'll go grab the seats, I guess." I briefly nodded at this before heading over to the lunch line as well.

The idea of having a group of people to sit with both thrilled and terrified me. I still wasn't used to it. I just couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that these people, the very ones that Nameless tried to _kill_, continued to invite me to their lunch table every day. I was waiting for the moment one of them would say, "You really didn't think we were _serious_, did you?" But I must admit, having this group to "semi-associate" myself with was nice.

And maybe, with Nameless out of the picture, I could further my relationships with them. It could have been a possibility.

I let this thought cheer me as I waited in line for my long-awaited lunch. Honestly, I was tempted to buy one of everything…and I never thought I would be thinking _that_ with school lunches.

After a short—yet excruciatingly long—span of time, I made my way over to the table Anzu had grabbed. Yuugi, Jounouchi and Honda were already delving into their food, clearly in high spirits. I noticed that Miho was sitting with the group today— undoubtedly due to Honda. I carefully set my tray down, seating myself next to Yuugi.

"_Dude_," was all Jounouchi sputtered out. He had actually stopped narrating his version of last night's episode of _Tenchijin_. I noticed the rest of the group had fallen silent as well.

I looked up in alarm. "What is it?"

"You gonna eat all that?" Honda queried as he pointed to my tray.

I reached for my bowl of rice defensively. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Honda cocked his head slightly. "You normally skip lunch."

I pondered this thought momentarily as I broke open a pair of chopsticks. Yes, he was right. I normally was too nauseated because of Nameless and his caustic words to work up much of an appetite.

So a returned his statement with a smile. "Ha, you're right!" And then I ate away.

After a few seconds of watching me incredulously, the group resumed its natural pace of conversation. Miho, of course, didn't say much if at all, but everyone else more than made up for it.

The conversation reverted back to limited when Jounouchi accidentally brought up a sore topic.

"You know you guys, I am _so_ pumped to kick some ass in Pegasus's tournament! I can't believe we'll be leaving in a few days, you know?" Jounouchi beamed as he took a swig of his soda. It was when he heard Yuugi suck in a tense breath that he'd realized his error. Plus, Anzu was looking murderously at the golden-haired teen.

Jounouchi face-faulted as he noticed that Yuugi had stopped eating, looking down at his hands instead.

"Oh, _crap_. Yuugi, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to remind you—"

"It's all right," Yuugi said hastily, forcing a smile, "You don't have to censor your words on my behalf. I'd be excited too, if…if…" His voice died down to a whisper, as he began to chew his lip absentmindedly.

I was at a total loss here. But then again, I was normally out of the loop with these things anyway. After all, I had a major issue to constantly battle with, at all hours of the day…

"Listen, Yuug—I promise you we'll get Gramps back. There is no way we're letting that _creep_ get away with it," Jounouchi asserted, clapping his hand on Yuugi's shoulder. Anzu reached across the table to give her best friend a reassuring squeeze. Yuugi seemed unresponsive to the sympathetic gestures.

So Yuugi's grandfather was taken away? Was it this Pegasus character? And how did it even happen? Perhaps an even more relevant question would be, _why_ was he taken?

I couldn't help myself. "Yuugi," I said, "Your grandfather was _kidnapped_?"

Yuugi did his best to filter the pain out of his voice. He could barely nod. "Yes. A man named Pegasus J. Crawford literally captured my grandpa as collateral in order to get me to participate in his dueling tournament."

I was appalled. "Is that even legal?"

"Who's going to report it?" Yuugi asked hopelessly, "If I did, that would probably put my grandpa in even more danger. And I don't want to risk it. It's best if I just comply with Pegasus's demands until I can think of something better."

"Why does he want you to participate in this tournament anyway? And what do you mean by 'dueling tournament'?" I realized I was being a little tactless about shooting so many questions at Yuugi, but I really had to know. A question lingered quietly in the back of my mind.

Could this somehow tie into why Nameless was scrounging the streets in search for something?

Yuugi, despite his distress, was patient. "There's this new game that came out, called 'Duel Monsters.' It's really an incredible game that has gotten lots of attention within the past few months. When Pegasus announced his upcoming dueling tournament, it just spiked everyone's curiosity even further. I mean, I guess that makes sense, considering that the prize for winning is a _ton_ of money. But I'm not going for that," Yuugi sighed. "I just want my grandpa back."

I nodded my head, soaking all this information in, as Yuugi continued.

"And Pegasus…he wants me to enter for _this_." Yuugi carefully held up his millennium puzzle for me to see.

Now I was completely intrigued.

"He knows about the millennium items?" I asked uneasily. "What could this Pegasus possibly want with—"

"He has one of his own," Yuugi interrupted. "He apparently is into collecting things." There was a hint of resentment in Yuugi's voice, as I knew he was alluding to the capturing of his grandfather.

"Yuugi, I'm so sor—"

"Please don't apologize," Yuugi interjected yet again, "Nothing's happened yet. I'll get my grandpa back. And he'll _never_ get my puzzle."

Confusion swirled around in my head as I heard the venom in Yuugi's words. I had never heard him talk with such anger. Not only for his grandfather, but for his _puzzle_.

I was going to ask him, "But isn't your puzzle like a curse too? I mean, even though the spirit inside _seems _full of good intentions, don't you still want to get rid of it?" but I stopped myself when I saw the way Yuugi held the puzzle in his hands. His fingers gently grazed along the edges of the pyramid-shaped pendent, as if it were his most cherished treasure…

Finally, it was Honda who spoke. "We're going to be gone for about a week, so fill us in on what we missed."

_We? _"Wait…_all_ of you are going?"

"Well," Honda shrugged, "except Miho. We can't let Yuugi fight this one alone, even if it means just standing on the sidelines showing our support."

A warm smile lighted Yuugi's face. "Thanks, you guys. This means a lot to me."

Miho, who had sat trance-like until her name was mentioned, looked at Yuugi directly. She cleared her throat. "I hope your grandpa will be all right. To feel the loss of someone who means the world to you…it's excruciating." Miho let out a pained laugh, so different from the laughs she used to express. It rang entirely hollow. "Truthfully, I can't imagine feeling happy ever again…"

An awkward silence fell over the table. Anzu, however, looked slightly annoyed at Miho's words. I didn't need to be a mind reader to guess her thoughts: "That was so inappropriate! Yuugi doesn't need to hear this."

Of course, no one would dare say such things, considering Miho's situation. They must have felt that her grief was making her act so…different, for a lack of better words.

The conversation was limited after that, so it was a relief when the bell signaled off, indicating the end of the lunch period. I noticed out of Yuugi's five hamburgers, only one was entirely consumed.

Nothing like anxiety to smother the appetite—I should know.

The group was more than ready to move on to the next class. By the time I had gathered my things, I realized they had already left. I tried to ignore the small pang of disappointment. This feeling had quickly passed though, when I observed that Miho was lagging behind as well.

Honda wasn't lurking behind Miho for once? A rare circumstance, one that I planned to take full advantage of.

I casually slid next to the lavender-haired teen, before giving myself a chance to second-guess my actions. "Um, hello," I said somewhat awkwardly. I wasn't sure of what else to say.

Miho slightly jumped, startled by my unexpected appearance. "Oh, Bakura. What's up?"

My instinctive response would have been, "Not much," although I made an extra effort to seem more engaged in the conversation. "Does there have to be something in order for me to talk to you?" I asked. I even threw in a good-natured smile. Was I the only person out there who had to remind himself to smile?

Miho analyzed my words for a brief second before giving in. "Well no, I guess not. It's just that you're normally not the type to go out of your way to talk to people—I could tell that from the first time I met you."

A brief flashback came to me then…she was really (to quote Yuugi from a previous conversation) "hitting" on me. How different she was then! She was more energetic, obviously happier…and although I hadn't talked to her much since, I could guarantee that the death of her brother completely transformed her.

I desperately hoped it wasn't permanent.

I kept my smile on my face. "You're right Miho, I don't usually try to talk to people. But that can always change. I wanted to speak with you."

Miho finally made eye contact with me. "You're speaking with me now."

I held her gaze intently, trying very hard to seem convincing. "Well…I was sort of hoping it could be somewhere more discreet."

Miho's eyebrows arched incredulously. "You mean like a date?"

That threw me off-guard. I didn't think of it like that. But something told me I should be saying yes; to say otherwise might not get Miho's attention.

I cleared my throat. "I suppose we could call it that, yes. I would like that very much."

Suspicion crept into Miho's lilac-grey eyes. "Why?"

"Why I would like that, or why—"

"Why are you asking me on a date?"

Oh, dear. I hadn't thought of a reasonable answer. I couldn't say, "Because I wanted to see how much damage a _psychotic spirit_ that lives inside me has done to you!"

So what to say…?

"I just want to get to know you better." How cliché of me! Would it work?

"…Is there a time and a place?"

A warm rush of surprise flushed my cheeks. Could it really have been this easy? "I was just thinking of the diner across the arcade right after school…just really casual…"

Miho let me trail off, watching me carefully. I suppressed the urge to gulp, feeling more than nervous.

"Perfect," she finally affirmed. "The last thing I need is serious, anyway."

I felt incredibly relieved. "Excellent. Now shall we walk to class?"

Miho jumped, realization suddenly striking her. "Oh, right. Class. I completely forgot."

I casually adjusted the bag strap over my shoulder, glancing at the clock hanging overhead. "For a minute there, I did too."

And also for that _very_ short span of time, I had forgotten about my disturbing reason for wanting to spend alone time with Miho.

I felt…normal.

* * *

A/N: Just wanted to say that I have the next chapter already mapped out, so no need to worry over when the next update will be! (I know, there tends to be obnoxiously long periods of time without a new chapter, so I really appreciate your patience!)  
A **review** would make my entire holiday, so come on, don't be shy!! :)


	10. The Silver Haired Thief

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: After this chapter, we will finally be moving on to the Duelist Kingdom season. Yay! I hope you enjoyed my version of "Season zero" as much as I did. I feel like I get to better understand Ryou the more I write from his perspective.  
Please note that as much as I've 'researched' the YGO series, minor details still escape me, such as how aware Yuugi's friends are of the millennium items. So…you could either let me know, or look the other way ;)  
As always, I am so grateful for your encouraging comments and helpful advice. I would have never gotten as far with this story if it weren't for such inspiring words :)

A **review** would be much appreciated, as I've worked very hard on this chapter!

Chapter Ten- The Silver-Haired Thief

My unofficial "date" had a painfully slow start.

But then again, is that not true for _all_ dates…?

Miho wasn't helping the situation, but finally—_finally_—offered something to put out on the table.

"You know when you sometimes get this unexplained feeling of foreboding, like something horrible is about to happen?" Miho said to me unexpectedly, staring at me with her haunted eyes.

I slowly nodded my head, caught off-guard by this unexpected outburst. Like I implied, it was only a few seconds ago that Miho was being torturously silent, only offering brief monosyllabic responses. I was about to give up, to just pay the check and suggest taking her home, when she finally threw _this_ at me.

I understood Miho's question all too well. I knew exactly what she was referring to. It made me stop in mid-sip from my iced tea.

"That one night—God, it feels like it was ages ago—I just _knew_ that my brother shouldn't have left with that man. There was something about him… I don't know, it was like there was this…this evil energy radiating from him, even though I had no tangible way of explaining this to my brother…"

I couldn't help but gape at the girl who sat across from me. I didn't even mention her brother, or ask about the events that took place before her brother's death, so what was making her say this?

And even more importantly, she _saw_ Nameless? She never told anyone at school that, did she? It was probably because of the most obvious reason I could think of.

"Miho, I don't believe I—"

"This _is_ why you asked me to come with you to this place, right?" Miho dryly prompted. Her face was devoid of any emotion.

I sucked in a sharp breath of air. "What would make you think—"

"Come on, Bakura, I understand guys pretty well," Miho sighed, taking a second to dip one of her fried shrimp into some sauce. "Take Honda for example. I know he's hanging around me all the time in hopes I will see him as more than a friend. I feel really sorry for him…because you can't force your feelings on someone. And Honda's such a great person! He really is. But…" Miho trailed off, biting into her shrimp thoughtfully.

I suppose 'as a guy,' I was stunned. She saw right through Honda, didn't she? Were all girls as intuitive as Miho?

"But?" I repeated with a trace of caution.

"But I just can't see myself dating him. I'm afraid he's just wasting his time, hanging around me so much. And _you_—" Miho took the opportunity to wag a shrimp tail at me critically—"you are being just as predictable as Honda. I know you're not the type to randomly take girls out to eat."

I couldn't help but nod my head at this in sullen agreement.

"So you must be wondering about my brother," Miho finally deduced. I noticed she left out the word _death_. "I mean, you never went out of your way to talk to me before."

Would it have been entirely rude to agree with Miho? Would that have been offensive?

"Forgive me," I acquiesced with a regretful smile, "I guess I can't say I disagree with you."

"The real question is though, why do you want to know?" Miho inquired, saying the question more so to herself. "I guess you're not _entirely_ predictable."

I blinked, not expecting Miho's response. "I suppose I want to know because…" I let my words die as I said them, struggling to think of a reasonable answer. Why would I, as a 'normal' person, want to know about Botan's death?

I might as well get to the point. No use in circling around the subject, right? Miho and I had sat in the diner for an excruciating half hour of small talk and I was more than willing to move on to deeper issues at hand.

Of course, I was well aware that discussing anything pertaining to death was a sensitive subject to Miho. And I really didn't want to be insensitive…but there were some things I needed to find out. I couldn't deny the fact that I felt horribly guilty about doing it, though.

I shifted my gaze to my hands, trying to block out Miho's face as I spoke. "I want to know because…I think the same man who got away with your brother's murder tried to kill me too." Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. It was _figuratively_ true, I guess.

Miho nearly choked on her Diet Coke as her eyes grew to the size of small saucers. "_What?_" she practically hissed through clenched teeth. "Bakura, are you _serious_?"

I ignored the small prick of guilt that nagged at me. "Is this something to joke about?" I asked with a completely sober expression. "I just want to clarify if it's the same person. This isn't something I could have asked you during school, you see."

Immediately Miho understood. "No wonder you wanted to go somewhere else," she murmured absentmindedly. "So how did that _thief_ get to you? What happened?"

Interesting choice of words that Miho picked. She called Nameless a 'thief'? I wondered why. However, there were more important issues that needed to be addressed.

"I was walking back to my apartment alone one night," I lied quickly, eager to move onto Miho's side of the story. Funny how lying became easier as I went along. "And he said he was lost. He asked for directions—"

"No," Miho whispered, staring at her glass with a ghostly cast to her face. Her face was stripped of all color.

The elaborate story I was concocting in my head immediately vanished. "What is it?" I worriedly asked. What did I say wrong?

Miho's expression appeared to be completely stoic, although the color was still gone from her face. It was like she fought to keep herself as composed as a mask, although I could tell it was beginning to break.

"That was exactly what happened with me…with me and Bot—" Suddenly Miho's voice cracked, as she ducked her head. She was quiet for a few seconds, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. I could tell she was struggling to control her ragged breathing. Her shift in emotion happened so quickly it caught me by surprise.

She tried again. "Did you know, when I was questioned about my brother's death, that I only reported him as missing?" she suddenly asked me.

Miho continued when she saw me shake my head. "I didn't want to believe the obvious. I thought, well, it couldn't be true! Botan was _my_ brother, and people you personally know don't just die, right? My brother couldn't have been _murdered_. That only happens in the movies. Or in one of those lame soap operas. God, I was so…so stupid! How could I possibly be that ignorant? That _blind_?" Miho paused again, this time passing the seconds to organize her thoughts.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Soon enough, I had to tell them the truth. I had to tell them that I saw him walk off to show a stranger a street he never had any intention of walking to, and that he never came back. I had to acknowledge that yes, this is reality, and my brother's body is nowhere to be found. And he's _dead_. He's gone, Bakura! I'm never going to see him again."

I could see a faint tear trailing down her cheek, one that she was trying to hide.

"I-I'm sorry," Miho offered with the most pitiful smile I had ever seen. That tiny spark of guilt I was experiencing before had multiplied a hundredfold.

Impulsively, I reached across the table and took her hands into mine. This girl's grief was because of the ring, the item _I_ was ultimately responsible for. What could I do to possibly make the situation right?

I could see the shock brimming through Miho's tears.

"Don't apologize for this. You have nothing to be sorry for," I said reassuringly to the broken girl sitting across from me. I really had _no_ clue what I was doing…

"But I could have _stopped_ him, Bakura! I could have told him we needed to get home, or at the very least I could have immediately told the truth. Maybe he still could have had a chance! Why did I say he was only missing? Why couldn't I tell all the details? Don't you see? It's entirely my fault! I could have saved his _life_!" Miho paused for a brief second, a fresh batch of tears collecting in eyes swimming in agony. "What kind of sister am I…?" Her voice wavered as she said this, squeezing my hands so tightly I was beginning to feel a vague numbness in my fingers.

For the first time in knowing the spirit of the ring, I felt a truly spiteful rage against him. And unlike before, it wasn't for myself. It was for this innocent person—and undoubtedly other people—the spirit has injured without batting an eye. It just wasn't _fair_, it wasn't right. No, even worse, it was purely evil.

"Miho," I said firmly, staring into her eyes, "There was nothing you could have done. Nothing. There is no stopping people such as him. Once they have a goal, they will accomplish it, no matter who or what stands in the way."

"How?" Miho demanded, "How could you possibly know that?"

A quick snapshot of blood-red eyes was slapped before closed lids. I could faintly hear an echo of cruel laughter, fed off of pain and tears. I opened my eyes.

"I already told you before," I quietly answered. "I survived my first encounter with him. But I know he'll come back and get me." I winced as I heard my own voice, knowing that the truth had weaved itself between words.

A strangled sort of gasp escaped from Miho. Her face suddenly looked pained again. "Bakura…I-I don't know if I can take another person's death…"

I feared Miho would break out into tears once more, but that fear diminished when I watched Miho's face. A ghost of a smile shadowed on her lips in spite of herself. She was trying to be encouraging for _me_, even though she needed it the most.

"So that means you can't let this monster win," Miho concluded, "you _can't_ let yourself die."

I was surprised by Miho's optimism. How I wished it were that simple! Miho didn't know who her brother was dealing with. Who I _am_ dealing with.

"Don't worry," but I was quick to say, despite my doubts, "Not anytime soon. I won't let it happen." How could I guarantee that? Would a meteorologist promise the public a hurricane that has a fifty percent chance of coming in? No. So why would I assure Miho that Nameless wouldn't try to kill me?

But Miho seemed relieved by my answer.

"Ever since my brother died, all anyone has ever said to me was, 'I'm sorry,' or asking about how I'm feeling," Miho suddenly told me. Her eyes rested on our hands. "But you're different. You're not afraid to talk to me, not afraid that a single word might cause me to break. I know I'm a horrible mess right now,"—Miho sighed at this, freeing a hand to wipe away her tears—"but for some reason, having you listen to me talk makes me feel better."

"It makes me feel better too," I said as well. And I meant it.

A waitress came over to our table, breaking us out of our moment. Our hands unlocked. "Are you ready for your check?" she asked in feigned cheerfulness. I realized Miho and I were at the diner for quite a while.

Still, I _wasn't_ done. Definitely not.

"No, not yet. Thank you, though," I told the waitress. A hint of exasperation glinted in her hazel eyes before she gave a curt nod and left us.

I watched as Miho sipped from her straw. "Miho," I said carefully, "I wanted to ask you something."

She glanced up. "Mm-hm?"

"Would you mind telling me what exactly happened that night?"

Miho stopped drinking as she leaned back in her chair. "And now we're back to square one," she deadpanned.

It took a couple of seconds for this to register. "Oh, that's right. I suppose you were way ahead of me then," I consented. "So would you be willing to…?"

I allowed my question to trail off open-ended, patiently waiting for Miho to respond. I noticed how she often scrunched her eyebrows together when collecting her thoughts.

"What…would you like to know?" she finally asked. She took a deep breath to better prepare herself.

I immediately knew what question had been banging around in my mind since I learned of Botan's death, and even more so when I found out Miho actually _saw_ Nameless. He was in my body, after all. If Miho saw him, didn't she think it was me? This question had been bothering me as an unhealed injury would, a constant steady pain angrily pulsating through me.

"What did he look like?" I forced myself to ask. As much as I tried, I couldn't get my voice to sound empty of fear.

Miho stared down into her glass, suddenly trancelike. I could tell she was allowing her mind to reel back to that very moment when she encountered Nameless. The very last moment when she saw her brother.

"…It was very, impossibly dark that night," Miho faintly said, still looking down. "Even the streetlamps were turned off, as if they were broken. Only the moon served as even the smallest trace of light, although the clouds often covered it up. So I didn't get to see much of him, as you probably didn't either, since you're asking me," Miho exhaled, as if trying to calm her suppressed emotions. "But…"

I was vaguely aware of my hands tightly clenched together, under the table. I was glad to have them out of view, for they were shaking.

"For a fleeting second, the moonlight managed to shine through the foggy haze that engulfed me and my brother. And I never got to see his face—it was like he never had one to begin with—but his hair, it was…"

I wondered if Miho noticed my trembling. I struggled to keep the tremor just out of my hands. I felt encased in a robe of ice. Why did I feel so cold?

Probably because it could take less than a second for Miho to draw the connection that Nameless and I looked too similar to be a coincidence.

"It was _silver_," Miho burst out, saying the final word as if it pained her. "It wasn't even a normal _human_ shade of grey, it almost looked metallic—I remember how it shined like a knife's blade…"

I winced at this description. Was my hair truly capable of looking like that…?

"I also remember his voice," Miho continued darkly, her eyes narrowing. "Although I wish I could forget. It was everything you would expect from a killer. An _insane_ killer. Even when he feigned _normalcy_ he couldn't really pull it off. I can't really explain it, other than the fact that something always sounded _wrong_." Miho's eyes darkened as she recalled the haunting voice. "But, stupid Botan, he didn't pick up on this. That man's—no, I can't even call him that—that _demon's_ voice was deep, and blaringly loud, like the roar of a massive engine. Every word was like a weapon in itself, as if he relished in every sound that would shoot from his lips."

"And the laughing," I almost inaudibly interjected. I was barely aware I had said it, if it weren't for Miho's acknowledgment of my statement.

Her eyes swirled with resentment. "Yes. His laugh. It rips through all sound until it reaches your ears first." Her face clouded with her immeasurable grief. "I heard it, the moment Botan was out of my sight…and I had no idea what was happening to him." Her shoulders began to shake, but no tears came. She merely held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut.

I silently waited for Miho to speak again. No words I could offer her would help at this point.

"How can I ever _really_ be happy again, Bakura?" Miho impulsively demanded. She slammed her fist on the table, and it made me jump. Her lip trembled. "I'm literally _drowning_ in all of these horrible emotions, and the whole goddamned _world_ keeps on spinning! All of my friends at school don't understand. They can say, 'I'm sorry' all they want and it won't do a _thing_ for me! What are they sorry for?! That I'll never be the same person again? _Excuse me_ for not having the strength throw my grief away in the trash!" Miho's voice had become shrill, her entire face straining to not give in to crying.

It were as if Miho's confession had allowed her pain to transfer over to me. I was hurting, too. To see how hard she struggled to remain sane…

"You're _not _alone," I abruptly said with as much conviction as I could muster. "Honestly, yes, the world does move on while you feel you are left chained to the past. You feel that you are the only person out there who must deal with the loose ends by yourself. Even worse, you feel like no one cares."

I swallowed back the lump that was beginning to form in my throat. "I know this…because _I_ suffer too. I don't have a family, Miho," I admitted, dismissing the ghost of an image my father used to be. When my mom and sister died, my father had died too. He just wasn't aware of it yet.

I forced myself to continue. "Loneliness can eat away at your core, until nothing's left. Eventually, when you feel intolerably empty, you get used to it. Pain becomes a natural way of life. Don't ever let this happen to you, Miho, because once you accept the misery in your heart it's nearly _impossible_ to forget about it." I offered the girl sitting across from me a sincere, empathetic smile. "You still have a family, even though you think it's broken. Don't forget about the people who are still here. I don't have much of a chance for the happily-ever after, but I know that you still do."

Miho was staring at me, her violet-grey eyes wide and teary. "Bakura…? _You _feel this way?"

I gave a single nod of the head. "You told me to not let this 'monster' win. And I'll try my best. But you should too. Don't you think that succumbing to the sadness is the same as admitting defeat?"

Miho fell silent at this, considering my question. At last she looked up at me. All she could do was nod her head in agreement, and I knew what she meant.

"Thank you," she at last said to me.

And it finally became clear to me, at that moment, that Miho was eventually going to be all right.

* * *

It had grown dark by the time Miho and I walked out of the diner. It appeared we had both lost our sense of time while sitting there together.

I was walking Miho back to her home, despite her half-hearted protests. Frankly, there would not be much I could do if she ever needed someone to defend her, but it definitely was the 'right' thing to do.

…Well, I also wanted to prolong returning back to my apartment for as long as humanly possible. I mean, I knew I had to go back into my bedroom eventually…and I also knew what awaited me there. That aside, I still had a question that lacked an answer.

"Miho," I said, slipping my hands into my pockets to better shield myself from the cold, "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

She momentarily glanced up from the pavement. "Yeah?"

"A while ago, when we were talking about …you know…_him_, you had referred to him as a 'thief.'"

Miho nodded her head stiffly. "I guess I did. What's your question?"

I hesitated. "Well, _why_?"

Miho shrugged her shoulders, as if it were obvious. "He stole a life, didn't he?"

_Oh. _That made perfect sense, didn't it? How fitting, to refer to Nameless as a thief. How many things has he snatched away from me? Aside from the physical, such as my piano or even my body, he has also stolen my chance for normalcy, a sense of freedom...and eventually, I'm sure, he might just rob my sanity.

I opened my mouth to say something, but was suddenly interrupted by another voice.

"Look, you guys! It's Miho and Bakura! Hey, you two!" It was Anzu who spoke, accompanied by Yuugi, Jounouchi and Honda.

Honda!

Oh, _God_.

I silently cursed as I watched the group approach us. Perhaps I felt even more dread with Honda's reaction to me than I did with eventually having to deal with Nameless. Which, in its own respect, is sort of pathetic.

"Hello," I said politely, trying to strain out the shakiness in my voice. "It's a surprise to see you all here at this hour."

"Yeah, I'd say the same thing," Honda replied coldly. Even in the darkness, I could see his eyes glinting with jealousy.

How could I explain to Honda that I really had no intention of 'taking away' Miho from him? Although I must say, it was not like she had any romantic feelings for him anyway.

If Miho had any clue that Honda was shooting daggers at me, she did not show it. "So what are you guys up to? Ryou and I just got back from dinner."

_Ryou?!_ What was she thinking? She never called me by my first name! Was she trying to kill me?

"_Ryou_," I heard the group repeat under their breaths in unison, almost like a collective gasp. I could hear the question in their voices.

Well, now I was sure Honda was bearing his fangs. Did humans have fangs? Honda did.

I was barely conscious of the fact my feet were inching backwards.

Yuugi came to my rescue. "Jounouchi and I were buying Duel Monster cards. Since we're leaving in a couple days we figured it'd be a good idea to boost our decks. Anzu and Honda just wanted to come along for the ride!" He smiled mischievously as he held up a bag filled with packs of cards. "Just don't tell my grandpa. He'd _kill_ me if he found out I bought cards at a store other than the Game Shop! But what can I say? I need more variety."

I nodded my head nervously. Wasn't Yuugi's grandpa currently gone? Why was he talking as if his grandpa were perfectly okay?

Jounouchi apparently saw my lost expression. He jokingly elbowed his friend. "Show him, Yuug."

"Show me what?" I said slowly.

But my confusion skyrocketed when Yuugi pulled out a camcorder from his backpack. He waited until he saw Miho was looking the other way.

"Say hi, Grandpa," Yuugi told the video screen.

I about fainted when I heard it respond back.

"Well hello there, friend of Yuugi's!" the screen told me cheerfully.

"_What?!_" I gasped. Was this some sort of hallucinogenic dream?

"What is this?" I barely managed to choke out in disbelief. I was clutching my chest in alarm. A look closer at the screen clarified that yes, Yuugi's grandfather _was_ inside a video screen. Oddly enough, Miho wasn't even aware of my panic. She clearly was zoned out from the conversation, which was strange considering she wasn't like that at all when it was just the two of us…

"Well, I thought my Grandpa had mysteriously disappeared into Pegasus's hands," Yuugi began, looking at the device he was holding, "Which is partly true. But what really happened, is that Pegasus trapped my grandpa into a video screen!"

"Yes, and it's quite strange in here," the man in the screen informed me. "I can't move anywhere! It gets boring quite easily."

"We'll keep you company, Gramps," Jounouchi piped up, rotating the camcorder to face him.

"Not so close! Your face is scary that big," Yuugi's grandfather said with surprising good humor. I can't make this statement until it actually happens to me, but if I were trapped in an electronic device, I would _not _be in a joking mood.

The group laughed at this while Jounouchi bristled. Miho simply blinked at the group's outburst.

"Yeah, please don't scare Yuugi's grandpa, that's the last thing he needs!" Anzu teased the golden-haired teen.

"I was offering _encouragement_," Jounouchi huffed.

"Well that's all well and good, but do it a considerable amount of distance away next time!" Yuugi's grandfather replied.

"H-how is this even possible?" I stammered, still staring at the camcorder incredulously. Pegasus trapped Yuugi's grandfather into a _video screen_? Of all the bizarre things to do…

"He has a millennium item, remember?" Yuugi pointed out. "And it seems he gets a lot of good use out of it… I mean, how does he even know how to control it? My puzzle's power seems kind of random, actually…"

"Yeah Bakura, you should know all about misuse of the millennium items," Honda suddenly piped up with spite oozing from his eyes. "That demon inside your ring trapped us into figurines to kill us, if memory serves correctly…"

Miho's head snapped up as she looked around in alarm. "Wait, what are you guys talking about…?"

Everyone blanched, except for Honda, wondering how carefully Miho was listening. They knew she had a tendency to zone out during conversations, which they felt allowed them to talk freely. It was risky, as was just proven. Miho knew a little about the items, but wasn't entirely aware of their powers or the possibility that spirits could reside in them. She only knew they were from ancient Egypt and possessed some type of 'negative' energy that made 'strange' things happen.

Jounouchi was an expert at playing the oblivious card. He blinked. "Whaddya mean, what are we talking about? We didn't say anything."

Miho frowned. "But I'm almost positive you just said something about those weird Egyptian items…"

Jounouchi shook his head with a completely sober expression. "Nope."

Honda shook his head in disgust as he sighed. His coffee-stained orbs slid over to me. I could clearly read the suspicion in them.

"_Anyway_," Yuugi drawled, moving from one foot to the other impatiently, "We were just about to head back home. It's getting late."

Well, at least to him. 'Night-crawlers' such as the spirit of the ring wouldn't even consider this as the beginning of their day.

"Hey, friend of Yuugi's with the white hair," Yuugi's grandfather suddenly chimed. I obviously knew who he was referring to.

"Yes?"

"Do a poor old man a favor and tell me where my grandson and his hoodlum friends went off to while I was stashed away in a backpack."

"Uh…"

"Haha! Too much information, Grandpa! I guess that's our cue to leave, right guys?" Yuugi's voice sounded perfectly conversational, but he looked at me with pleading eyes. I bit back a smile.

The group muttered sentiments of agreement as Yuugi carefully stowed away the camcorder. I could vaguely hear his grandfather grumbling about how his grandson and the group probably headed off to a 'sexually explicit' store.

Right as the group turned to leave, the moon managed to break out from blackened clouds. A hazy mist of light blanketed us with a golden-tinged glow.

I heard Anzu gasp.

"Bakura! Your hair…It looks silver under the moonlight…" I saw her wide-eyed gaze and it made me wonder—was it really that drastic?

Jounouchi examined my hair as well and let out a low whistle. "It's got like this metallic shine to it. Weird."

It suddenly occurred to me the conversation Miho and I had about the 'thief's' hair color…

"_It was silver. It wasn't even a normal human shade of grey, it almost looked metallic—I remember how it shined like a knife's blade…" _

A pang of fear clutched at my heart as Miho froze.

Slowly, very slowly, she turned to look at me. Her intense stare bore into me, countless of questions swirling in lilac orbs. And in those eyes, the feeling I could most clearly identify was distrust.

"You…" Miho began, but was too choked up with conflicting emotions. She made the connection, but wouldn't believe it.

The truth, ironically, did not match up with what I told her, and what she thought she knew.

The group noticed the change in Miho.

"What's wrong?" Honda was quick to ask. He immediately moved in closer.

Miho continued to look at me. I wondered, for a painful few seconds, would she communicate her thoughts?

But her gaze broke away from me as she shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

The clouds sluggishly embraced the moon again, and darkness once more resumed. And just like that, the group broke out of their musings, the moment over.

"So for real this time, we need to get going!" Anzu laughed as she adjusted her purse strap. "It's easy to lose track of time when distracted by so many people."

"You're just distracted by my dashing good looks," Jounouchi grinned as he flicked his bangs. On cue, Anzu whacked him with her purse as the group finally began to continue walking back to their homes.

"See ya later, Miho and Bakura!" Yuugi called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bye _Miho_," Honda emphasized gruffly as he left with the other three.

As they walked off, I turned to Miho.

I took in a deep breath. "Will I still be walking you home?"

Of course, at this point, I already knew what her answer would be.

"No," she said curtly. "I think I'll be just fine by myself."

I winced at how cold her tone was.

It became blatantly obvious of what had just happened within that fleeting moment when the moon's malicious light revealed the truth. In short, the entire evening I spent with Miho became erased.

All because of my ugly, ridiculous hair.

I struggled to seem unfazed. Smiling was painful. "Oh, all right. I'll see you at school!"

Miho said nothing in response to this as I helplessly watched her tread away.

Away, away, away…just like that one small hope I had…

* * *

I returned home a little sooner than I had hoped. I didn't have to walk Miho back to her place and I found myself rushing to get out of downtown Domino. I was tired of passing shop display windows and seeing the reflection of a monster. I couldn't stand to look at myself.

Back at my apartment, I closed the door behind me as quietly as possible, wondering if anyone—anything?—was home.

"So where were you?" My father demanded. His voice was unusually detached.

I jumped at the unexpected noise. I whirled around.

"F-Father," I acknowledged with the dregs of smile, "I'm still not used to you being home…"

"No, I wouldn't imagine so," my father said, standing completely still. "Which makes me wonder what it is exactly that you do while I'm gone."

I carefully took off my jacket, wondering if I should raise my hands as a criminal would to a police officer. There was something very _off_ about my father's voice.

"What are you talking about?" I said as calmly as possible. "I was out with a friend—"

"Oh, really? I find that hard to believe. You haven't had any real friends since…" My father trailed off, his eyes lowering to my chest, but not finding anything there.

He was looking for the ring. "Yes, since _you_ have given me the ring," I finished for him.

His eyes slowly moved back up to my face. "I was going to say since your sister's death."

I felt a surge of resentment. "I wouldn't expect you to know anything about my social life, so you might as well stop pretending."

And what I really wanted to accuse him of, but didn't have the strength for, was his awareness of the curse he bestowed on me when he thrust the ring into my life.

Anger aside, I _was_ surprised my father was willing to acknowledge my sister's death in the first place.

"I know enough," my father finally said, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "I know that my son is too antisocial to be out and about until it gets dark."

I made a move to leave. "Were you standing by the door until I came home in hopes you could throw insults at me? If so, I'm going to my room."

It was when I had advanced a few steps past my father that he spoke.

"Mrs. Nosaka called me today."

I froze. I remained silent.

"They found Botan's body."

The sound of my heart exploded in my ears. This time, I didn't reply because my voice escaped me. And my thoughts seemed to be locked away in a vault.

"His body was mangled, but they eventually identified it after they recovered it from underground."

"That's…that's horrible," I whispered thickly, my voice unusually low. I placed a hand on the wall to steady myself.

"It's disgusting," my father agreed, his voice coming through like a siren in the night. "It's disgusting that there are people out there who are capable of acting so evil."

Evil. It was a word that described my entire situation.

I forced myself to nod.

"But you're probably wondering why Miho's mother called me."

"Yes," I said, my voice still that pathetic whisper.

"They found a single hair clinging to the boy's clothes, and it wasn't his."

I placed more of my weight against the wall, afraid I might collapse. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"It was a long, white hair. It was identified to not be that of an old person's. That hair belonged to someone between the ages of ten and twenty-five."

"That's odd," I forced myself to say.

"Yes, isn't it?" my father asked darkly. "Especially since we live in Japan. There isn't a single person in Domino who has hair like _yours_."

I impulsively whipped around, ignoring the slow spinning of the floor. "Father are you honestly accusing _me_ of—"

"No," he interrupted, "I'm not, but Mrs. Nosaka _did _point out the unusual coincidence. And I'm not usually around to know what you do in your free time—"

"So naturally, that must mean I _kill_ people when I'm done with my homework!" I hissed through clenched teeth, anger blocking out my fear for the moment.

My father's eyes widened at my sudden change of emotion. How I could go from passive to caustic in less than a second. _I_ was even surprised at myself.

"Ryou, that's not what I'm saying—"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted. "Mrs. Nosaka doesn't know a _thing_ about me, but gives you a call anyway and you _believe_ her? What kind of parent are you? Were you waiting for me to come home so you could accuse me of _murder_? Miho's mother doesn't know me so it's forgivable, but _you_ should!"

I ignored my father's feeble protests as I stalked into my bedroom to shut his voice out. After locking the door, I slumped against it, all of my energy suddenly draining. Talking to my father drained me out, dealing with the stress of Miho's situation drained me out…if only I could rewind time and start all over.

Looking down at my shaking hands, I attempted to slow down my breathing.

But when the anger left as quickly as it came, that was when the fear sank back in.

Mrs. Nosaka called my father because she was suspicious.

_Murder. Murder. Murder. _

_Murderer. _

It was so surreal, it was almost like I was wallowing in another nightmare. The reality, the true reality that faced me, was that I could be charged with a felony. For taking someone's life.

Or should I say, _stealing_ it.

That thought immediately reminded me of the ring that resided on top of my desk. Unwillingly my eyes travelled over to stare at the ring, darkly thinking how harmless it looked from a distance.

I was sure that at any moment, Nameless would materialize before me to impose a punishment fit for someone who had the entire day to create it.

And I was scared, so horribly scared, but I was too exhausted to react. I figured anything the spirit of the ring could do to me had certainly been done before.

Besides, I finally accepted that I had lost the battle for total possession of my body. I had known this before, but couldn't bring myself to believe it. Now however, I did not have a choice. No longer would I try to take the ring off, and in return the spirit should hopefully keep me out of the law's grasp. He put me into this mess, now he had to get me out of it.

I warily eyed the ring that rested a short distance away, patiently waiting.

I slowly rose from the floor, my eyes never leaving the ring. I did not give myself time to rethink the situation. I knew that any decision made would lead to undesirable results; it was only a matter of finding out which one would keep me alive and somewhat safe.

The spirit of the ring keeping me safe? How horribly, ridiculously ironic.

Wordlessly, grasping a thin piece of rope conveniently placed in my desk drawer, I looped it around the ring, tied the knot, and slipped it around my neck. I cursed my entire being for doing it, yet remained silent. Vaguely in the back of my mind I wondered what Nameless would say or do to me now that he had access once more.

It was then that Nameless finally materialized by my side.

"I was wondering when you would come to your senses."

Taking one look at him, I had no need to ask him what he planned to do for revenge. Even he knew I wouldn't be taking off the ring again. And he was aware of my reasoning, too—it would be pointless.

That alone was more punishment than he could have ever fathomed.

* * *

It was on that day that my letters to Amane began.

Occasionally before, I would write mindless sentences in a pathetic attempt to kill the time. But now, I had the ultimate incentive.

At least there was one thing I had learned from my composition class. I should write. Not because there's a grade involved, but because no one listens.

With a body—and hence my voice—no longer under my possession, writing would be the only way for someone to fully understand me, albeit deceased.

I always like to think that Amane can somehow read these letters that I keep under my bed.

After all, if not even a single soul out there can hear me, what chance do I have to come through this hell alive?

* * *

_Amane—_

_Your eyes will never reach this letter, and yet I still write. Perhaps it is to give me some sense of closure, yet even I can't be sure. Truthfully, I'm still upset with you, for leaving me so suddenly, and more importantly, for leaving me to struggle through my life alone. What can I say, I really am a selfish person. _

_Today I had a small taste of what freedom would be like without the millennium ring. Even then I still felt like I was bird in a cage, although the cage was larger than before. I always am restricted, no matter what I do. I suppose I knew that eventually, I had to put the ring back on. It's inevitable. When I placed the ring back around my neck, I was more than surprised that the spirit wasn't any more angry with me than if I were to obey him in the first place. I think even he was aware that finally, I realized that I couldn't escape him…I would no longer try to take off the ring. That fact alone was more punishment then anything he could possibly do to me. For the spirit's unexpected logic, I am grateful. _

_I wish the spirit was as predictable as our relationship. Between the two of us, I at least know that I can scream and cry at you for hours on end and you will never respond.  
Oftentimes I wonder if that one moment I talked with you in my soul room was just a dream. True to your word, it was in fact the last time I would be seeing you.  
I'll try to look at this sensibly and not believe you knew you were hurting more than helping me.  
_

_So tell me, Amane, what's the point in establishing relationships with even a single person if you know you will only get burned in the end? I just want to lock myself away until this part of my life is over…or will this part never end…?  
_

_In any case, I still love you._

_-Ryou_


	11. In The Cards

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot—will not—let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh! Additionally, as a disclaimer, note that any comments (particularly religious remarks) do not express my own personal beliefs. And lastly, there will be tarot references in this chapter—any interpretations mentioned are my own summarizations based off a book from Dennis Fairchild simply entitled Tarot. I'm a novice at tarot readings, so I plead ignorance!

A/N: Alas, the time comes when I head back to college. So that means that updates will unfortunately be scarce. I'm deeply sorry to those who expect more from me, but what can I say, I'm just a poor decrepit victim of time constraints. Naturally, I will post an update when opportunity strikes! Keep in mind friends, that I'll be back. I always come back. (insert evil laughter here) Seriously though, thanks for sticking with me :)

A **review**, as always, is as appreciated to me as a nap is to a sleep-starved individual.

Chapter Eleven- In the Cards

"Pack your things."

These words were thrown to me as a guard would throw a prisoner his meal; harshly, of course, with a healthy dose of unwarranted hostility. Nameless stood before me in his usual haughty way, with a hand carelessly resting on his hip.

"Excuse me?" I glanced up from my homework, breaking out of a trance-like 'thinking' state that is guaranteed whenever I do math. I might also add here that Nameless had remained unusually silent for an entire day so I was surprised, to say the least, when I heard his sudden demand, delivered on an uneventful Tuesday evening.

"You heard me," Nameless answered firmly, "So do as you're told. Pack. Your. Things."

I gaped at the spirit. Was he serious? He very well _seemed_ it. But he couldn't possibly expect me to drop everything and adhere to his strange request on so short of notice…

I managed to gather my composure. "If you want me to start packing, I would at least like a reason why."

Nameless briefly rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Eventually you're going to have to learn to stop asking so many questions and just obey. But I'll humor you just this once. We're going to a dueling tournament."

I felt my pen slip from my fingers as it rolled to the floor. I didn't bother to pick it up, unable to tear my eyes away from the spirit's form. "The one…the one _Yuugi's _going to?"

Nameless smirked. "The very same."

"_Pegasus's_ tournament?"

"Is there another?"

I floundered with my words for a few moments, still registering this unexpected turn of events. Just a minute ago I was doing my homework for my math class the next day…

"But…the tournament starts _tomorrow_."

"Excellent observation my dull-witted host, which is why I'm telling you to collect your things now."

I shook my head at this, still at a loss. "We didn't get an invitation…you need something called a star chip to get in. Plus, we don't even have any dueling cards—"

"You believe these details escaped me?" Nameless questioned, his eyebrows lifting challengingly.

"Well, I…I mean yes," I admitted. "I just don't see how you can know these things."

The spirit burst out laughing at this, as I resisted the urge to wince. He was so _loud_…why did I have to be the only one who could hear him? He was maddening in every way.

He finally managed to quiet down enough to give a response. "Aside from the fact we share the same body and I can hear your childish little friends talking about the tournament, I also happen to hear the obnoxious babble of people in the streets…Domino is called _the_ gaming city for a reason, yes?"

I frowned. "That still doesn't explain what we're going to do about entering a tournament with no cards or a star chip."

"Open your desk drawer."

"Why?" was my obvious response.

"Just do it, Landlord."

I already knew what was going to be in there before I even opened it. The way Nameless's eyes gleamed with triumph was enough proof. Yet I slipped open the drawer anyway.

I immediately did a double-take of what laid before me. It was unbelievable.

"How did you…? Oh, my God."

"Impressed? I'll take my bow now, if you don't mind."

"I _do_ mind you…you thief! How on earth did you get so many…?" In my very own desk drawer laid hundreds of Duel Monster cards, piled in haphazardly and nearly overflowing from the sides. Of course, a single star chip was planted conveniently on top.

"I believe I already mentioned how the streets are loaded with gamers and those annoying champion-wannabes. Some actually had pretty decent cards, though."

I was speechless. In the meantime, I was putting two and two together while Nameless gloated over his stash of cards.

"So this—" I pointed to my abdomen where a scar still remained, "—is because of _this_?"

Nameless followed my gaze resting accusingly on the pile of cards and merely shrugged. "That sounds about right."

"That's terrible."

Nameless twisted his lips in his usual smirk. "Isn't it? The bastard who dismembered the ring from our body was absolutely livid when I took his precious star chip. He must have thought he actually had a shot at winning."

"I was referring to the fact that you _stole_ all of this junk."

Nameless shook his finger at me mockingly. "Ah, but it isn't junk, Landlord! These cards will take us far…"

"Yes, far away from home, away from school, where I _should_ be," I groaned despairingly. "The tournament's on an island, you know."

Nameless grinned. "Exactly right. We'll be heading off for Domino Pier tomorrow morning."

I gritted my teeth. "But we need tickets to get on the boat!"

Nameless gave me a look, which in turn resulted in another groan from me. "We're sneaking on, aren't we."

"See look, I don't even need to throw explanations at you anymore—you already know what I'll say."

Suddenly, an alarming thought came to me. "Wait, you stole a star chip."

"We already established this, yes."

"Implying we're going to be entering the _tournament_?" That would have been horrible. For one, Yuugi and his friends all knew that I couldn't duel, I didn't even know about it until they brought it up! They would think I was crazy! And more than anything, they would wonder how on earth I ever received an invitation.

Nameless put me out of my misery. "Of course not. I have no intention of dealing with brainless tools wandering the premises in hopes for a one in a million chance of victory. The chip is just for security purposes, if we're ever asked to show proof of our welcome there."

"Then _why_ are we going to Pegasus's island?"

"For his millennium item, my pathetic Landlord! Why the hell else," Nameless paused here, letting a wicked smile darken his features. "And if we just so happen to gain possession of the boy's puzzle, then so be it."

"I really should have known," I muttered bitterly. I wasn't even going to ask how Nameless knew about the millionaire's possession of the ancient Egyptian relic.

A quick flashback of Yuugi stating his refusal to part with his treasured millennium item occurred to me. How he held onto it so protectively.

"Just so you're aware, I highly doubt you'll be getting the puzzle anytime soon," I commented.

Nameless appeared unfazed. "If I happen to fail in my attempt to attain the puzzle, then so be it. In fact, I have a feeling the boy will eventually start collecting the items for himself, which is fortunate for me to have such an oblivious fool do all the dirty work."

Confusion settled in heavier than before. "Why would Yuugi ever want to collect the items?"

Nameless gazed at me momentarily before brushing me off. "Don't even try to wrap your mind around it. Just leave me to my so-called 'treacherous' ways and from there on it'll be smooth sailing. And then you can get back to your wretched little schoolboy antics."

Dismissing the spirit's usual jab at me, I let out a long, distressed sigh, feeling like it was hours past midnight when it was only eight. "How do you live with yourself?"

Again, another shameless smile. "Easy. Through you."

I let myself wallow a few minutes in my misfortune before kicking back my chair grudgingly. "I guess I should start packing."

"You realize most normal brats your age would be thrilled to miss about a week's worth of school," Nameless noted, stretching his arms behind his back.

I ignored him. "What will I tell Father?" I asked mostly to myself.

I couldn't just say to him, '_Why hello, Father! Guess what? I'll be off to a random island to participate in a card game tournament for about a week! That's right! I'll be missing school to play silly, ridiculously childish card games! Well, goodbye!_' I mean, it just wouldn't work, especially after that argument I had with him the other night…there was just no way he would let me.

"Tell him the truth, you sniveling fool," Nameless answered off-handedly, "Or don't tell him at all."

I stopped halfway through riffling through a few drawers to turn around and look at the spirit. "Stop making things seem so simple. His approval of this trip is paramount to whether or not we can go."

"No, you need to stop making things so complicated," Nameless returned, "And regardless of what your father says, we're going. I'm afraid a three thousand-year-old spirit carries more authority than a washed up, middle-aged man."

I silently scowled at Nameless's description of my father. Yes, he annoyed me too, but only I had the right to say that!

"Wait," I said, stopping once more from my search for pack-worthy clothes, "You're _three thousand_ years old?"

"Give or take a few years," Nameless replied briskly. "Now if you're done asking mindless questions, I'll leave you to your packing."

"Fine," I sighed, glad to have the opportunity to keep to myself. Nameless was just on the verge of dissolving into thin air when yet another question made me stop him.

"Just out of curiosity, doesn't a duel deck need a theme of sorts? I was just hearing Yuugi and his friends talking about how it was important—"

"That doesn't concern you," Nameless interrupted, "But to shut you up, I'll say I haven't the faintest idea."

I face-faulted. "B-but—"

"Believe me, I _will_ know when the time comes," Nameless said forebodingly. "Oh, and while on the topic of the tournament, think of it as a good thing. After all, we wouldn't want the accusations about _your_ murder to fester, now would we? Consider this as an opportunity to let things cool down…"

He vanished with a taunting chuckle before I had the chance to come up with a response.

With silence once more dominating the room, I turned back to my drawer, unhappily picking my attire for the next day.

Ah, it kills me to say this during the rare times this happens, but I guess I will reluctantly admit that he was somewhat—_somewhat_—right.

* * *

I was in my soul room again.

Usually what would happen during the night is that I would be completely unconscious in my slumber while Nameless prowls the streets doing God-knows-what. However, due to my anxiety over my sudden change of plans over the course of a week, I was restless. Which, of course, left me to sit around in my soul room, idly watching as leaves endlessly rained around me. Well, it was better than counting sheep.

Eventually however, the time came when sleep refused to overtake me, and I grew bored with just sitting around. I sighed, rising to my feet, deciding to look around.

One would think that as the owner of my soul room, I would be well acquainted with everything inside it. But it was strange; rummaging around this still foreign place was very much like an adult revisiting an old storage room from his childhood. The items neatly packed into the sole bookshelf of my soul room were things I had long forgotten.

I was flipping through one of my favorite childhood books, Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass, when a small rectangular box literally fell off the bookshelf with a resolute thud. That was odd. I didn't see how it could have fallen without anything to coax it out. When my gaze fell on the small box however, I forgot my previous thought as I immediately recognized what it was. My tarot cards! I haven't used them in ages. I suppose ever since the spirit of the ring entered my life, I forgot about a lot of the things I used to do. Although when I thought about it, _not _using the tarot cards was senseless, considering that I needed their guidance now more than ever.

I would like to add here that even though I am considered Christian by association, I never said that I followed all the 'rules.' I suppose that's horrible, isn't it? I think coming to Japan— where Christianity isn't viewed as intensely as from where I used to live— influenced me to sort of neglect my religious obligations. And, truthfully, I can't help but wonder; how do people know for _sure _what the 'right' religion is? In any case, I don't see why some people view tarot cards as 'evil.' As I have always felt, nothing is evil until _your_ intentions are.

Gingerly setting my book aside, I reached over to pick up the deck of cards. I felt a small smile creep across my face as I held the box, remembering how often I used them. I even memorized the meaning of nearly all the cards.

I opened the box, very carefully depositing the cards into my hand. They were just as beautiful as I had remembered them. I swiftly thumbed through each individual card, wondering if I recalled how to do a reading. Undoubtedly, it would be interesting to see what the cards had to say.

The moment was short-lived, though.

"I see you're having fun. How adorable."

I jumped at the voice, startled by the disrupted silence. I kept my head lowered and didn't answer, condensing the cards back into the palm of my hand. I made a motion to put them into their box.

"What's that you got there? Go Fish cards?" Nameless asked, barely able to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded instead. "Shouldn't you be off stealing things?"

"You speak as if that's all I do," Nameless said in mock hurt.

"It is. And you didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer _mine_."

I tilted my head to take a look at Nameless to gauge his seriousness. As always, he was impossible to read.

"These are tarot cards," I said with a defeated sigh, "They sort of tell your future and guide you in making decisions."

Nameless stared at me with a completely sober expression. "Do you believe they work?"

"Well I—I'd like to think so," I said guardedly, "Now will you please tell me why you are here?"

"I'm here because I could tell you were awake and conscious in your soul room."

"Is that a problem?"

"Yes, actually. It gets distracting."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said dryly. I obviously didn't know Nameless all that well, but I was _positive_ there was something more to his answer. He clearly wasn't going to elaborate, though.

"So tell me, Landlord—why are there tarot cards in your soul room? Interesting, don't you think? Every single item in here says something about _you_."

I blanched. Of course I knew that, but the fact that Nameless could evaluate my soul room and learn more about me than I would have liked disturbed me.

I gave the spirit an honest answer to distract his attention. "I used to do tarot readings a few years back…I used them a lot, actually. I was fascinated with the fact that the card that represented my past was always the 'V of Cups.'"

That definitely snatched Nameless's attention. "Always?"

I nodded my head.

"Well what does it mean?"

"Something about deception and moving on," I said dismissively, not caring to go into further detail.

Nameless was silent for a few seconds—a rarity.

"Give me a reading."

"W-what?" I was unprepared for that one. Really? Why would _he_ care? One would think the spirit, out of anyone, would scoff at such subjective matters.

"You heard me. I want one."

Demanding, wasn't he? One look into the spirit's unwavering garnet eyes told me he was set on getting a reading. Well, this could get interesting.

"…All right," I finally agreed. "But you can't get upset with me if you don't like what you hear."

"If it's unflattering, then it's nonsense," Nameless sneered. "But humor me anyway."

I sighed, hastily shuffling the deck. No good could come of this.

I handed the spirit the deck, gesturing for him to sit down. "I'll need you to divide the deck into four piles, from left to right in a line."

He grabbed the deck from my hands and wordlessly dropped to the floor across from me. Meticulously, he dispensed the cards into the allotted groups. He glanced at me expectantly.

"Now take the first card from the far left pile and place it face down right here."

The spirit did so, and we repeated the process, taking the first card from the top of the other three decks, and placed them face down as well. The final result had four concealed cards in the formation of a diamond.

"Okay, so now we have four cards in front of us. These are the ones we'll be evaluating."

"I can see that," Nameless needlessly interjected. I glared at him.

"The one that makes the top point of the diamond represents your present situation. It addresses what you must contend with now. The point on the left symbolizes issues or concerns you've dealt with in the past. This is considered important because it helps to identify what influences you today."

Nameless critically eyed the cards in front of him, but surprisingly, refrained from speaking. Doubt practically oozed from him.

"The card that's at the bottom of the diamond gives you advice to consider," I continued, "It's usually a guide to direct you to your goals."

"_That_ is going to be the most useful card then," Nameless commented.

I shook my head in disagreement. "No, I think the final card—the one that makes the final point to the diamond—would be the most useful. It may not only reveal the future, but directly deals with _how_ to obtain your goal."

Curiosity sparked in the spirit's eye. "Well then let's get on with it."

I guess I was amused that Nameless was so absorbed with what I was telling him. After all, how often does one get to tell an arrogant three thousand-year-old spirit something he doesn't know? (Or, something that he will actually _admit_ he doesn't know.)

Without delay, I flipped the first card, the one representing the present, over. "'The Page of Cups' tells us that presently, you should be prepared for things to not go as you had hoped. You should consider your reactions to situations and avoid childish behavior." Huh. I suppose that fit Nameless rather well.

The spirit snorted at this, waving his hand for me to continue. I turned the second card face up.

"'The Magician of Arcana,'" I announced, "And it's reversed."

"So?"

"Well first off, when any card falls into the _Major Arcana_ category, it represents major life lessons that are either learned or evaded. Since this is your past, I'm assuming this card implies a life lesson that you already learned or avoided. 'The Magician' in particular deals with your actions. Since it's reversed, it means you failed to think twice before acting. And it warns of arrogance."

"Excellent job at making this seem believable, Landlord," Nameless jeered, "Unfortunately, I've caught onto your little game and question your ability to do these so-called readings."

"I'm _not_ lying," I said indignantly, scowling at his accusation. "I've been doing this for years! Do you want me to continue or not?"

The spirit grunted an inaudible response, which I assumed meant yes. I flipped the third card over.

"For this card, which deals with information for you to consider, we have 'The X of Wands.' This card indicates that if you pursue your goals too aggressively, it will result in some serious setbacks. And of course to start looking for new approaches." My eyebrows lifted at this, vaguely noting how accurate the cards seemed to be. But then again, what did I know?

"Get to the final one," Nameless demanded, interrupting my musings. God, was he pushy.

Upon revealing the final card, I felt a spiteful smile spread across my face, struggling to conceal it.

"'The Tower,' one of the _Major Arcana_ cards," I informed the spirit. "And like 'The Magician,' it's reversed."

"Which means it isn't good."

"Pretty much."

Annoyance darted past the spirit's face as he jutted out his chin—a tendency whenever he attempted to mask his frustration. "Well, you might as well get on with it."

I chose to speak candidly. "A fall from glory is likely."

Nameless appeared suspiciously calm. "You also mentioned how this card represents how to handle the situation."

That was unexpected. I didn't think he was listening _that _closely.

"You're right," I admitted slowly. I was hoping Nameless had forgotten that one small detail, yet of course he hadn't. I wondered, would answering his question be helping the 'enemy'?

I sucked in a deep breath, my gaze matching the spirit's steady one. "This card would suggest that you can't achieve victory, or attain your goals, alone."

"Oh, really?" Nameless mused. The corner of his mouth was beginning to edge upwards. "Then I'd say that I'm pretty set then. After all, I have _you_ to thank."

Suddenly my mood wasn't so neutral. I glowered at him. "Don't say things like that."

But the spirit kept on talking. "You know, you might be on to something, dealing with these tarot cards. There's something about the supernatural…" Nameless trailed off, his eyes swimming with thought. "…Yes, there's something about _occult_ matters that practically beg for attention."

"What on earth are you getting at?"

The spirit looked utterly pleased with himself as his smirk widened. "Landlord."

I miserably eyed the spirit. "What?"

"Thanks to you, I found a suitable theme for my deck. Wouldn't you say an occult theme fits perfectly?"

Oh, no. I actually had a hand in deciding the spirit's deck? No, no, no….

"Um, well, I don't know, it seems kind of—"

"Don't be so hard on yourself Landlord, it was a great suggestion," Nameless said sarcastically.

"But I _didn't_ suggest anything!" I protested. Seriously, this just wasn't fair!

"You did enough," Nameless felt obligated to point out. "Your ability to read these cards was exactly what I needed."

"If I knew I would be helping you, I would have _never_ done it," I replied icily.

"Why? Is giving me a simple tarot reading blasphemous to Mutou's cult?"

I felt my anger begin to bubble as I saw the amusement dance in Nameless's eyes. Why did he always seem the most smug whenever in an argument?

"This isn't a joke," I said as evenly as possible. It wasn't even an iota funny to think that Nameless saw me as his tool to manipulate. Or worse, an ally.

"If you say so," Nameless casually replied. "Although I do think your paranoia on this subject is quite humorous."

"Why is _everything_ I do funny to you?" I burst out. "How can you possibly see the humor in making someone so miserable?"

Another thought came to me. "For instance, where's the joke in destroying my piano?" I paused for only a second to catch my breath before shooting into my next accusation. "Or better yet, how can you _kill_ someone and simply laugh at my reaction?"

I didn't mean to bring up the subject—it was an issue that I could barely swallow—yet I couldn't help myself. Even still, I couldn't fathom that a spirit who lived through me, a spirit who allegedly _was_ _me_ in another life, was capable of murder.

And the spirit's taunting mood vanished, just like that. In its place, I'd imagine was anger, exasperation, hostility, or perhaps a combination of the three.

"Landlord, you honestly sicken me."

Much to my dismay, I watched my vision blur from tears. I didn't know why that trivial insult, out of all the others that were stabbed at me, made my façade crack. I promised myself I wouldn't allow my emotions to go uncensored in front of someone so heartless. More than anything, I was frustrated with myself for losing my composure so easily. I sharply looked away, refusing to even glance in Nameless's direction.

"You killed someone just because I refused to listen to you, and you say that _I'm_ sickening? Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you?"

Strangely enough, Nameless said nothing. In my peripheral vision I could tell he had straightened up to leave. It made my degree of self-consciousness rise when I could feel his eyes resting on my form.

I couldn't take it anymore.

"Will you just leave already?" My voice wasn't strong enough to sound demanding; and it was because of that, I'm sure, that Nameless decided against leaving and threw yet another curveball at me.

"He asked to die, you know."

I uneasily whirled around. "What?"

Despite my frustration, there was an obvious question that popped up in my mind. What exactly was Nameless scheming? I mean, there had to be a reason _why_ he hadn't left and was still talking to me.

"That boy. Your little friend's brother."

No. There was no way the spirit was talking about this. I glared at Nameless with all the resentment I could muster. "I'm tired of you lying to me and being a part of another one of your jokes—"

Red eyes flashed. "Believe me you moron, I wouldn't be wasting my breath on you if it weren't true."

"But why would he—"

Nameless sneered. "Ask to die? He hated his life. The monotony of it. How every day was like a circle, always ending up where he began—"

"_You're_ the moron, you don't grant suicidal people their wish to die!" I hissed at Nameless. Unbelievable. Was the spirit of the ring actually trying to _justify _his heinous act? I was entirely appalled.

For once, Nameless brushed off my insult. "Why is his wish not valid, Landlord? Wouldn't you have liked someone to release you from this nightmare of a world if that were your desire?"

My mind spun with a dizzying amount of answers here, so I picked the simplest one. "But I don't want to die. My life isn't over yet."

Nameless scoffed at me. "Oh…? How do you know that? You can't guarantee whether your life is finished or not. That boy—foolish as he was—knew nothing better was going to come out of his life."

My hands involuntarily clenched. "His name was Botan. He had a _family_, and friends, and I can guarantee you he must have had a future. Suicidal people are twisted in the brain, Spirit. They don't _see_ a way out, no matter how obvious it may be. "

"Again, you're wrong," Nameless asserted, folding his arms resolutely, "Only he could have known what his life was like. Your point of view is biased from your friend's perspective. You only know what she told you."

"How could _you_ possibly know what 'that boy' would have wanted?" I demanded. My own voice sounded so harsh, and so unbelievingly accusatory.

Nameless watched me with his calculating gaze. "I heard his final words. The night of his death, he literally walked away with me and told me he wanted to die."

It felt like lightening had stricken me down.

"I don't believe you." I mean, who would _do_ that?

Nameless tilted his head in challenge. "Would you like to hear his words, verbatim?"

"No."

"'_Listen. I know you aren't really asking for directions. You either want my money, or you're on a killing rampage. Well, fine. Do it, just don't harm my sister. I've been meaning to die for a while now, so you'd be doing me a favor.'" _A slow smile draped across the sprit's face as his murky eyes met mine. "Or, something like that."

"You're a liar," I simply said to the spirit, shaking my head. It felt like I had been accusing him of that far too frequently. As if I thrived off of denial.

"Stop denying yourself the truth," Nameless told me, voicing my thoughts, "Open your eyes for once."

"They _are_ open, and I'm seeing a horrible monster who has no trouble killing someone without hesitation," I snapped at the spirit.

Again, I was expecting Nameless to reach over and smack me across the face or stab an insult at me, but nothing happened. Instead he stood there, still intently watching me.

"Stop _looking _at me like that!" I shouted. "It's like you're waiting for me to do a trick or something!"

"Well as often as you accuse me of being unpredictable, I'd say you're equally as much," the spirit smirked. "I often can't determine whether you'll break down and cry like a child or go on a ranting streak. It entertains me, to say the least."

I glared, feeling the heavy throbbing near my temples whenever a headache commenced. Again, he said I entertained him. I was so revolted. "What would you like me to do, then?"

I was being completely sarcastic, although Nameless chose to answer my question seriously. "I want you to believe me when I say that I killed the boy because he asked for it. His desire for someone to grant him death would be something I would have wanted for myself before I sold my soul to hell."

It was like my train of thoughts had suddenly crashed into a boulder. I had forgotten everything I meant to say to the spirit, all because of his last comment.

"…What?" I hesitantly questioned. What did he mean, he 'sold' his soul…?

But the spirit did not give me an answer. Instead he said, "So now you know why I committed the murder…although I must say, choosing to kill him in your living room was a nice touch." A cold smile formed on the spirit's face as I looked away in disgust.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked him as stoically as possible.

"Because I grow tired of your constant moaning and wailing about my evil deeds," the spirit answered smoothly, a hint of dry humor injected in his words. "Perhaps this will at least shut you up, albeit momentarily. My nosy Landlord always needs an explanation, doesn't he?"

I could tell the spirit's question was purely rhetorical, so I remained silent. That is, at least for the moment. But I couldn't help myself.

"That doesn't make what you did right. You still killed someone, and you still destroyed my piano."

"Very true," the spirit agreed, "So consider _that_ as a generous warning for rebellion."

I shot daggers at the white-haired fiend standing across from me.

Honestly? I believe he was lying. After all, why else would he owe me an explanation to his actions if he ever planned on doing worse than that?

It was like the time when Nameless lashed out to strike me, although he was in his transparent form.

Although inherently cruel to the core, I at least had a suspicion that Nameless tended to act under false pretenses.

So I relaxed my shoulders and turned back to my tarot cards. "Fine."

Nameless wasn't quite finished yet. "Landlord," he snapped.

I sighed, as I returned his gaze for a moment. "Yes?"

His eyes narrowed at me. He turned away. "Nothing."

My brow furrowed in annoyance, yet didn't say anything. I began shuffling my tarot deck as I saw Nameless head back toward the mysterious door in my soul room out of the corner of my eye.

I was also vaguely aware that, right before turning the doorknob, he stopped. His back was still turned.

"I trust you won't be taking the ring off again."

I frowned as I noticed a stray card had fallen out of my deck, face up.

"You already know the answer to that," I said distractedly. The card read '_The Devil_.' It was one of the _Major Arcana_ cards. Now what did that card mean again? I _did_ know that it was an ambiguous card that meant what one wouldn't expect. I always had trouble remembering the details, though.

"Getting rid of me, even for a day, is dangerous. The last thing I need is a dead host."

"The only thing _dangerous _out there, at least to the common person, would be you," I returned, still eyeing the card.

Nameless scoffed. "You'd be surprised," he countered ominously. And then he left.

My eyes finally trailed over to the door that was yanked shut.

The spirit of the ring was acting very, very odd.

I didn't know what scared me more: the evil Nameless was capable of, or that tiny pinprick of humanity he just showed me.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

__ _**The Devil**___

_Beware of your dark side, and your impulsive nature too. The pursuit of certain desires could taint your ability to think clearly. There is a relationship that may prove to be poisonous. _


	12. Masquerade

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot—will not—let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: Hello, at last! You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to update. Yes, it's been awhile, but hopefully it will well be worth the wait. I'm finally on my spring break, and will take full advantage of the "free time" (no time is ever free…). I hope you will all forgive me!

Chapter Twelve- Masquerade

_Bright, ocean blue eyes blink up at the frail boy with the alabaster hair_. _A girl, the owner of these eyes, pairs her gaze with a coaxing smile. _

"_Ryou, it's your turn." _

_A crease etches onto the boy's smooth forehead. "But it was my turn last time."_

_Again, another smile. "I know." _

_The boy uneasily glances left and right, left and right. He sighs. "Fine." Crouching low, he begins to slip down the staircase, wholly silent and calculating. A nanny casually walks by, holding a laundry basket. The boy freezes. He waits until her back retreats into another room. Glancing back at his sister for reassurance, he sucks in a deep breath and makes his way over to the door._

_His hand grips the knob, twisting it softly open. He winces as he hears approaching footsteps. _

"_Go!" he can hear the girl frantically whisper. _

_Without looking back, he lurches through the door._

_Outside, he can hear the rhythmic pulse of suburbia. The birds, blissfully chirping, and cars, leisurely rolling down vacant roads. A group of kids, kicking a softball, and laughter. _

_But there is one particular sound he is listening for. _

_He hears it. The stop-and-start roar of the mail truck. It slowly chugs its way past each mailbox, finally stopping at the boy's. The boy is standing there, expectant and silent. _

_The mailman peers out the window. "Are you waiting to pick up the mail for your parents, little guy?" _

_Wordlessly, the boy nods his head. There is no need to say he does not have a mother. _

_The mailman smiles. "Well then here you go. Don't drop anything, now." He hands the boy a pile of letters. "Have a nice day." He disappears back into the truck and moves on to the next mailbox. _

_The boy starts furiously sifting through the letters. Bills, advertisements, junk…and a real letter. The address is handwritten, and the return label is from an all-too-familiar place. _

_He stares at the letter. _

_He holds the letter apart from the others, allowing his mind to run through all the ways to destroy it. Would it be safe to throw it in the trash? Probably not. _

_He opts to tear it into pieces. Hundreds of unreadable scraps of paper, all food for the wind. As he is about to rip the letter, a hand clamps down on his shoulder. _

_The boy jumps, his heart racing. _

"_Ryou." The voice sounds soft, but angry. "What do you think you're doing?" _

_It is only one of the nannies, but as the boy knew, they were all threats. They could easily—_

"_What's this?" The nanny snatches the envelope from the boy's grasp, before he can hide it. "A letter from your grandparents?" _

_The boy doesn't answer. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the letter, wishing he could will it to dissolve into thin air. The nanny just doesn't understand, he __**has**__ to take that letter, if his father sees it, he might-! _

"_I've noticed you have been getting the mail a lot recently. How long has this been going on?" _

_Still, no words escape the boy. He has nothing to say. No, she doesn't deserve an explanation. It's none of her business. _

_The nanny sighs. She grabs a hold of the boy's arm. "Come with me." _

_The boy doesn't bother struggling. What would be the point? She already has the letter. In his mind, he failed the mission he was sent out to do. He failed his sister. _

_The nanny drags the boy inside, kicking the door shut with her foot. The noise coaxes the girl to peek out from the staircase, watching the boy with scared eyes. She tightly clutches onto the spindles._

_Like a prison guard, the nanny marches the boy down the hall to the room that resides at the very end. As they get closer to their destination, the lights seem dimmer and dimmer, until all light seems to be squeezed out by the darkness. _

_The boy can hear his heart pounding fearfully in his chest. _

_The nanny knocks once, twice, before opening the door. _

"_Sir, I think your son has been hiding something from you. A letter that came in the mail today." _

_The boy cringes at the harshness of the nanny's words. When it was said like that, out in the open, it made him seem like he had committed a criminal act. _

"_I believe this has been going on for a while, too. I've been watching him—"_

"_Enough." The nanny immediately silences. _

_The boy notices how his father's chair is turned away, his back facing him instead. He can barely see the top of his father's head, and a hand, holding up a glass containing a dark amber liquid. _

"_Give me the letter." The father is now holding up his free hand, waiting. The nanny promptly places the letter into his palm, as his fingers curl around it. He places his drink down with a sloppy clatter before ripping the envelope open with agonizing lethargy. _

_A tense silence fills the room as the boy waits for his father's reaction. He stares down at the burgundy carpet, wondering how many times he has been in his father's office since his mother had died. Maybe once, twice. He holds his breath. _

"_This letter is from your grandmother, Ryou." _

_The boy bites his lip, nodding his head. He then remembers his father isn't looking at him and lets out a quiet, "Yes." _

"_She wants you and Amane to live with her and your grandfather."_

_The boy says nothing to this. Words fail to come to his mouth, swirling around in his mind instead. _

"_And she says this is the ninth time she has written with no response." _

_What could he possibly say in defense to this? It was by accident Amane came across the first letter from their grandparents. They were curious so read the letter before their father got to it. _

_The grandparents were so concerned about the children's mental health after the brutal death of their mother that they requested the children's immediate placement with them. _

_But it wasn't really with "them." No, what they really wanted, was to send them to—_

"_She believes a few weeks in intensive therapy would help you and Amane tremendously." _

_The boy knew that "intensive therapy" actually meant a mental health facility. He already read the details in the first letter. The grandmother wanted to send them off until she felt both the boy and his sister were stable enough to "handle the real world." But who knew how long that would actually take._

"_Frankly, I agree." _

_The boy's head shoots up. "N-no!" he stammers. This was exactly what he and his sister feared. Was their father really that willing to get rid of them? Life at home wasn't perfect, but away in some foreign place with psychologists and clipboards and white walls would be far worse._

"_Why have you been hiding these letters from me, Ryou?" Casually, the father flicks the letter to the floor and picks up his glass instead. His chair tilts back as he takes a long sip. _

_The boy thought the answer to his father's question was obvious. What child would want to be torn from home? A dysfunctional, broken home, yes, but still home. _

_The boy feels his shoulders begin to shake. "Amane and I don't want to leave." _

"_Ryou, let me tell you something, and I want you to remember it for the rest of your life. Are you listening?" _

_The boy's fists clench. "Yes." _

"_We'd all like to think that we have control of our own lives. That life is one big game that you can conquer if you learn all the rules. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes." _

_The father pauses once more to polish off his drink. Like the letter, he throws it to the ground carelessly. The glass rolls around the floor, dribbling the final remains of the liquid into the carpet. "But this is something you must learn early. You are __**not**__ in control. You may be told you are responsible for the outcome of your life, but this is a goddamn lie. You are but a leaf in the wind, being blown in any direction the wind chooses. If it wants you to go to hell, you go to hell. Are you following?"_

"_Y-yes." _

"_Ryou, I'm tired of being that leaf being pushed around. Do you think I wanted your mother to die? No. Do you think I had any control over it, whatsoever? No. So then tell me, son, why did it happen?"_

_The boy is wholly shaking now. "I don't know." _

"_Damn right you don't. Neither do I. But it doesn't matter. The point is, just because you don't want to leave this place you call home, it doesn't mean you will get your way."_

_The boy chokes back a sob. "Dad, I—"_

"_Shut your mouth. Now." The harshness of the father's words is like daggers to the boy's heart. He quiets down, biting his lip once more. _

"_If you are going to ask me whether or not I'll send you and Amane off to your grandparents,' don't bother," the father softly says, his voice lower now but colder. "Because I'm only going to tell you one thing." _

_Finally, the father wheels his chair around. The boy holds back a gasp as he sees his father. It looked as if demons had clawed their nails down the man's sunken face, as every feature appeared to be drooping. A sickly yellow complexion shadows across his face, thickly accentuated with the desk lamp's unforgiving light. The father's eyes meet the boy's, bleak, tired, and glassy. _

"_I don't care." _

* * *

"Wake up."

I certainly heard this harsh voice, cutting through my sleep like a jagged knife, yet I couldn't quite pull myself out of the blanket of sleep that smothered me. No, in my mind, I was still a child, seeing the nightmarish cast of my father's office towering over my head, threatening to cave in on me from the heavily-laden shadows. I could see my father's eyes, how their passive acceptance suffocated me. I couldn't take it anymore, I was running down the hall, stumbling past objects that weren't there, refusing to look at Amane's disheartened face—

"Damn it, Vessel, wake up!"

And just like that, consciousness gratefully returned to me. I groaned into the darkness, my hands magnetically rising to my face to cover it.

It was silent now, but I could still hear my heart, drumming powerfully in my ears.

"What time is it?" I murmured drowsily. I knew Nameless was sitting at the edge of the bed, even though I couldn't see him apart from the darkness. Rather, I _felt_ his presence.

"It's going on five. You need to get up _now_ to catch the bus."

My hands were still covering my face, rubbing my eyes to coax them to open. "Is Yuugi getting up this early?" I just couldn't believe that Yuugi—or any of his friends, for that matter—would be willing to get up before the sun had even risen just to catch a miserable bus for a dueling tournament.

"That doesn't matter," Nameless replied instead. "I want to get on the bus before Yuugi or anyone that will recognize you sees that you're going to this tournament. I don't want them suspecting anything, or worse, having the brains to think that I have something to do with this."

I sighed into my hands. "And even if they did find out, what could they possibly do about it? Point fingers and call names?"

Surprisingly, Nameless chuckled. "This is true, but I don't want to take chances. I have no idea how that spirit inside Yuugi's puzzle would react."

I considered this before prying my hands away from my eyes and forcing them to open. Darkness welcomed me, which I suppose was a perk for being up so early. Bracing myself, I pulled my body in an upright position and squinted at the clock. _4:58. _I groaned once more, wishing for a "snooze" option, although knew that with Nameless, that wouldn't be possible. I might as well rise before he would _make_ me. Although, now that I thought about it, would that really be a bad thing…?

"Vessel."

I barely turned my head to acknowledge him, wondering if I had the willpower to slip out of bed. "Hm?"

"Your dreams…they're interesting."

That woke me up.

"_What_." I couldn't even formulate my tone to sound like a question—it projected itself as a statement, demanding for clarification. Immediately I was beginning to feel the familiar rush of blood flooding up my neck and across my cheeks.

"You always have nightmares, although most of them were reality at some point. A tortured soul, you are."

How could he possibly have known what I dreamt about? Was nothing kept private to myself? If not my thoughts, then why couldn't my _dreams_ have escaped Nameless' critical eyes?

My embarrassment ate away at my insides, feelings jumbling together with unspoken questions. Most of all, I wondered if he was aware of the dreams I had of _him_.

I couldn't find it in me to ask.

"What…what makes you bring this up?" I began to worry my lip, trying to shove my biggest questions to the back of my mind. I struggled to make out Nameless' facial expression amidst the darkness. He was translucent, causing his appearance to waver at the smallest disturbance.

"I just found it odd." Nameless didn't offer any elaboration, so I let it go. I had to get up anyway, so snatched the opportunity to rise from my bed and disappear into the bathroom before he could bring up anything else. However, it was right when I was closing the bathroom door behind me that I thought I heard Nameless speak. It was so quiet though, I'm pretty sure I was just imagining things.

"…_I used to have them too_."

* * *

The process of getting ready wasn't supposed to be difficult, yet with the straightjacket that is sleep deprivation, I found even the most simple of tasks a complete obstacle course. By the time I had made my way over to the kitchen for breakfast, I was relieved to finally have the chance to sit down.

I was surprised, to say the least, when I saw my father sitting at the table.

I blinked, wondering if I was seeing correctly. "Father?" I slowly asked.

He started from the unexpected noise, folding down his newspaper to glance at me instead. "Ryou, what on earth are you doing up this early?" he asked incredulously.

It had occurred to me then, that I hadn't thought of a reasonable explanation to give to my father about going to a dueling tournament for a week.

_Would he even care?_ a part of me dryly prompted. I didn't know what reaction I wanted from him.

So, instead of trying to taper my words to convince my father, I simply told him as much of the truth as I could. More or less.

"I'm leaving for a week to go to a dueling tournament. It's supposed to be a really big deal that Pegasus J. Crawford—you've heard of him—is hosting on his exclusive island. I was invited. And I know a lot of people who will be going too." There. That wasn't so bad.

My father stared—or rather, gaped—at me for a few moments, completely silent. Even the familiar tick of the wall clock seemed to shut itself off.

"Have you gone _mad_?" he finally inquired.

"Huh?" Maybe I shouldn't have started with the "I'm leaving for a week" part.

"You don't like those types of card games," my father reasoned, scrutinizing me now. "Why on earth would you run off to something like this? And for an entire _week_?"

"I don't see how you would know what my likes are," I calmly retorted. Really, I was hoping to avoid another argument from a couple days ago.

Suddenly, I felt _his_ presence seep out of my body, looming close behind me. "_Be more persuasive than that_," Nameless whispered in my ear softly, even though I was the only one who could hear him. I cringed. His mere presence alone was enough to suffocate me.

And yet I complied. "But I've really come to like Duel Monsters because of my group of friends," I told my father, adjusting my tone to sound more conversational. "Like I said, they're all going too."

"Friends?" my father repeated, as if just realizing what I'd said.

I felt a twinge of annoyance, but let it go. "Yes, father. Friends. Real ones."

"_Come now, Vessel, you know that sarcasm won't win your father over_," Nameless once again piped up. I swear the air around him was overwhelmingly cold, freezing me to the core.

"_Why are you interfering?_" I thought to him.

"_I'm simply making it easier for you, Vessel, since you clearly have no idea how to be convincing. We could just leave, but then you'd have this man to contend with after. And he might be so annoying that I would have to silence him forever._"

"_Don't you dare joke like that!_" I hissed in reply.

I heard a faint chuckle. "_I'm not joking_," he said.

I was about to express my disgust with him, until he interrupted me. "_Not to take the skeletons out of the closet or anything, but your father used to be an alcoholic? He just didn't care about you or your sister at the time…he couldn't. Too bad he still doesn't feel the same way, it would be much easier_—"

"Cut it out!" I snapped.

My father looked at me, completely lost. "Cut what out…?" he hesitantly asked.

I winced, cursing myself for forgetting to keep my last thoughts silent. It really was impossible to carry on two conversations at once. "You…keep looking at me like you want to say something. Just say it," I prompted, desperately snatching words as they came to me.

My father blinked. "Do I really? Well, I guess this is true. I guess I keep thinking how much I really _don't _know about you."

This completely threw me off-guard. I would have never thought he would admit such a thing, much less out loud.

My father finally lowered his gaze back to his newspaper. He looked permanently exhausted, haunted, even. "And thinking about what I was suggesting about you the other night—you know, with that phone call and everything—well, Ryou, I'm really sorry."

I stood, suddenly feeling very awkward, before my father. He had just apologized to me. _But do you really mean that?_ I wanted to ask him. It was much easier to coast through life without taking much consideration into anything. Right now, I had a hard time trying to accept what my father was telling me.

As always, my thoughts never ran in conjunction with my actions. I nodded my head, even smiled. "Thank you, Father."

"_That's a good Vessel_," Nameless practically purred in my ear. I turned my head away.

"So what are you going to do about your schoolwork?" my father probed, switching topics. Apparently he was feeling awkward too. "I thought you didn't like to miss school."

"Well, I _don't_," I agreed, hoping Nameless would hear that part, "But I have someone at school who agreed to take notes for me." Lie. That was a lie. Maybe Miho would have, if things hadn't gone so sour. "…And I figured I owed it to myself to allow a little fun once in a while." How horribly ironic! I was pretty sure I even heard Nameless scoff at this.

"Are you sure you should be doing this, though? You'll probably fall behind in your schoolwork…" my father trailed off.

"Everything will work out fine," I replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible. I _wish_ I could promise that.

There was a speculative stillness that filled the room. Perhaps a minute went by while I waited patiently for my father's next question.

"So when are you leaving?"

"About half an hour," I automatically answered, knowing a bus came by at the stop every thirty minutes or so. It was already five-thirty, so I had to hurry to make sure I caught the one at six.

"It would have been nice if you gave me a warning before the day you're leaving," my father commented, finally straightening out his newspaper to indicate he was finished with our conversation. My shoulders slumped at this, wishing I could just say, "I would have, but the spirit taking over my body only told me of this yesterday."

I speculated this potential scenario in my mind as I shuffled over to the fridge for some juice. I noticed a bowl of half-eaten fruit salad nudged behind the eggs, so grabbed that too.

I sat down at the table, watching my father read the paper with such intensity it was unsettling. I wondered again why he was up so early. I had an excuse, but why would he be up when the sun wasn't? He normally went to work _hours_ later.

I stabbed at the fruit in my bowl with a fork, not really hungry. There was so much going on I was too stressed to work up an appetite.

"_Eat, Vessel_," Nameless suddenly demanded. "_You don't know when your next meal will be_."

That was reassuring. I didn't respond to the spirit though, obeying him instead. I wasn't sure if my drowsiness was making me unwilling to speak or if it was my irritation with him. He was making me go through all of this, and really, for what?

"Ryou," my father said. I looked up from my bowl. "I was wondering something."

"All right…" I said slowly. Whenever my father felt the need to announce his thoughts, it was usually because he was bracing me for something traumatic.

"Where on earth did the piano go?"

I stared at him silently. The piano was absent for at least a week. Or was it more than that? I was having increasing difficulty in keeping track of the days…they all seemed to mesh together into one long nightmare.

I began to laugh. It was a quiet laugh—mine always are, nothing is ever _too_ funny—but it surprised even me.

"Oh, Father, that piano has been out the apartment for days and just now you realize that?" I asked him. I stood up, swiping my bowl and cup off the table and dumped them into the sink. I turned on the faucet, washing the dishes briskly before throwing them into the dishwasher.

Drying my hands, I shook my head in disbelief. The more I thought about my father's question, the more it annoyed me.

"Ryou?" my father asked again. I could tell he was confused by my reaction. "Seriously, what happened to it?"

I turned to face him. I looked him hard in the face.

"Does it really matter?"

* * *

The trip over to the pier was easy enough. There were minor inconveniences, such as packing enough in one book bag to last a week and getting to the bus stop on time, but for the most part, it wasn't too bad.

Sneaking onto the boat was an entirely different matter.

"Oh, dear," I huffed as I gazed at the small crowd circulating around the pier. It would be nearly impossible to slink onto the boat without encountering security. Especially with my hair, I didn't blend into the crowd as well as I would have liked. My eyes flitted from the dock to the boat to security, completely lost on what my next move would be.

"_Spirit_," I said, noticing the whiny edge that crept into my voice, "_What on earth am I supposed to do?_"

"_You step aside_," Nameless' answer swiftly came. "_I don't need you messing this up_."

"_I have no problem with that_," I asserted, "_But why didn't you say so earlier?_"

"_I just wanted to see how you'd react_," Nameless casually said. "_And you acted exactly as I'd expected—completely helpless."_

I didn't appreciate that answer, but what could I say? How was I supposed to know how to act like a criminal? Not that I wanted to know.

Consciousness temporarily left me as Nameless took over my body. It was one of the times I was glad to release control over my actions, because this was one activity I wanted no part of. By the time I reopened my eyes, I was inside my soul room, and Nameless was already on the move.

I stared at the piles of fallen leaves that pooled around my ankles. It felt like, recently, I had been inside my soul room far more than I would have liked. It worried me, to think that I was likely to be stashed away in this enigma of a place more and more frequently as Nameless runs around to accomplish his mission.

Would there come a time where I would simply disappear from the real world? Would my own personal existence no longer matter?

I shuddered—I didn't want to think about it.

To distract myself, I resolved to make my way over to the looking glass that allowed me to see through Nameless' eyes. I wasn't sure what else to do with my time anyway. Pressing my hands against the large, ancient door to steady myself, I gazed into the mirror which embedded itself into the thick wood.

I could see Nameless heading straight for the guards—as if he feared nothing!—and encountered the man who appeared to be in charge. I gawked at the mirror, wondering what the devious spirit could possibly be planning. He wasn't going to _fight_ them, was he?

I quickly realized that I was mistaken. Nameless was more clever than that. But what he did surprised me so much I would have never guessed it.

Nameless transferred his soul out my body into the man's. I felt his absence immediately, the very second he left. It was the oddest thing to see the guard's eyes completely change expressions, from curious to purposeful. Nameless was speaking through the man, giving orders to the other security guards to check out a suspicious person they let through. Consequently, they all left, leaving the possessed man and my semi-empty shell of a body standing at the edge of the dock.

I was immediately distracted, though, when the door I was pressing against fell open, causing me to stumble through.

"What?" I gasped aloud as my body tripped through the gaping door. What was happening? Why did that door open? I was never able to open it before. But now, when I wasn't trying, it just swung open for me.

My head whipped back and forth frantically, taking note of my surroundings. There was a long hallway, with both sides extending indefinitely into darkness. What immediately caught my attention was the closed door that resided just a few paces away, across from my door. It was enormous, and made entirely of crumbling stone. Etched into it were numerous markings and pictures. They were definitely hieroglyphics.

What was this place? My mind was screaming with countless of thoughts and questions, but I had an overwhelming feeling that the door I stared at would lead to Nameless' soul room. I wasn't entirely certain, but the _aura_ that practically oozed from the door gave me enough of an indication. It felt like dry ice lapped at my ankles and crawled up my skin—my body ached from both freezing and burning.

I could feel my heart pounding forcefully inside me, propelled by both fear and excitement.

Despite my natural instincts screaming at me to run, one question swirled around me temptingly. Would the door open? For whatever reason, I _had_ to find out. I had a hard time believing Nameless had a soul to begin with, and yearned to know what his room looked like.

Besides, Nameless knew what _my_ soul room was like. And consequently, that meant he knew everything about me. Or at least in essence. He even knew about my dreams. Didn't that entitle me to find out something—anything—about him?

Gathering up my nerve, I approached the door as quietly as I could, afraid of making even the tiniest sound. I feared that even the smallest movement or indication that I was outside of my soul room would send Nameless running.

But wait, how could that have been possible? Nameless was in that guard's body. Maybe that was why the door locking me into my soul room broke open in the first place. However, if that were true, then that would also mean that my time to "freely" roam around this strange new place would be limited.

I had to hurry.

I reached out to the stone door, and, sucking in a sharp breath, pushed against it while twisting its rusted knob. The door gave in fairly easily, moaning with an extended _creeeaaaaak_. I could feel the hairs on my neck stand on end as I braced myself to enter.

Immediately that aura I was sensing outside the door wrapped around me a thousand fold the moment I approached. I cannot truly explain the feeling, for it was a combination of things: fear, anger, hostility, despair, coldness. It eagerly clung onto my skin, pouring down my throat and seeping into my insides. It was suffocating, overwhelming.

It was when I advanced a few steps into the mysterious room that the door I had opened unexpectedly slammed shut behind me. I jumped, whirling around in horror to see that the stone door had just sealed me in.

And that was when I truly realized, with complete and utter terror, the reality of the situation—I was in Nameless' soul room.


	13. Six Feet Under Secrets

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot—will not—let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: There are _so_ many ways to interpret what Nameless' (I mean, _Bakura's_) soul room looks like. I hope that I picked the right one. I had thought about it for a really long time, and I promise every detail I put in had a justification behind it. So I hope you will come to see this enigmatic soul room the way that I do!

Chapter Thirteen- Six-Feet-Under Secrets

The sun was too bright.

It was the first thing I noticed, apart from the fact that I was locked inside Nameless' soul room. I squinted my eyes up at the sky, raising my forearm to shield myself from the sun's glaring rays. It beat down on me, as if I were standing there for hours, smothering me with so much heat I could barely breathe.

And then I realized that there _was_ a sky, just like my soul room. Did all soul rooms represent the outside world? This strange place could not be neatly boxed into a sort of cubicle; rather, it seemed to extend beyond my field of vision.

My eyes finally adjusted to the burning brightness of the sun, and I was able to lower my arm to get a better idea of what I was dealing with. As each detail registered in my mind, a combination of nausea, fear, and disbelief festered in my stomach.

The air around me was thick and sweltering. I could literally see heat waves wobbling up towards the sky. There was a hazy red hue coating everything around me, tinting my pale skin with a bloody cast. Every time I breathed in, my lungs struggled to grasp enough air to keep my thoughts coherent. But with each gasp, I picked up on heavy unfamiliar scents that reminded me of cloves, burning wood and cigar smoke. My senses were so overwhelmed I could feel my legs shaking, struggling to remain standing. It was a futile effort though, as I sunk down to the ground. The gravity of this place had to be stronger than what it is on Earth. My muscles were constantly fighting against some unseen force, straining just to function.

Sand enveloped me in grainy pools, collapsing over my legs and clinging to my skin. They carried the heat that sun-packed grains would if nights didn't exist to cool them off. I winced as I could feel my skin being seared against the rough sand. I struggled to push myself up, but the combination of the overbearing sun, collapsing ground and my sudden exhaustion kept me planted where I was. There I sat, in a crumpled heap, floundering for stability or some sort of reprieve from the obstacles that threatened me.

I flinched as one of my legs came down on something solid. It made a shallow clattering sound, like a child flinging plastic toys across the room. Reluctantly, my eyes trailed down to my leg, and then finally, to the source of the noise.

There was a skeleton buried in the sand.

"Ah-h!" I half choked, half gasped, as I kicked myself back instinctively. My hand flew to my throat, panting for air. My eyes, however, remained glued to the skeleton, as the image branded itself into my mind. The arm of the human carcass was extended, fingers outstretched, as if begging to take a hold of me.

A sharp gust of wind unexpectedly came, slashing at my face and tearing the sand into haphazard piles. The clattering that I had heard earlier returned again, only this time my leg wasn't the catalyst to the sound.

The wind had rolled the corpse over, causing a collective rattling of loose bones.

To my repulsion, I realized the horrible sound that I heard, that clattering, wasn't just coming from that one skeleton. It was all around me.

The wind unearthed not just one, but many skeletons, buried again and again by the sand. All of them seemed to have been frozen in their deaths begging for survival, their arms reaching up to the sky. All of their skulls revealed stiff grins, tragically plastered on for the rest of eternity.

I cried out in terror, this time forcing myself to rise. I started backing up, backing up for the door, when I realized something so horrifying it sickened me to the core.

The door was gone.

"Where did it go?" I moaned, panicked, as my eyes scoured the area in desperation. For all I knew, the sand could have swallowed up my only exit from the second I turned away. My heart thudded even harder in my chest, as if announcing it was still alive, but could be silenced at any moment.

My absent-minded scramble to escape caused me to trip over another object, forcing me to the ground. My hands instinctively slapped out in front of me to break the fall, then realized I had come in contact with the object I had tripped over. I fearfully looked down.

A mask.

Immediately my hands flinched away from the mask, as if zapped by an electric current. The mask looked disgusting and malicious, like a realistic voodoo doll made to stick pins in. Yellow eyes frantically bulged out at me, and a sickly mocking smile painted its leathery face, accentuated with a clownish red stained to the lips. What frightened me the most was that the face itself looked like real burnt skin.

A short distance way, I could see an edge of another object half buried by the sand. I didn't want to find out what it was, yet some inexplicable compulsion surged through me, urging me to retrieve the item.

Again, it was another mask.

This one didn't look nearly as hostile, yet equally passionate in emotion. It reeked of sadness, despair. The mask looked like it was torn out of a vaudeville film, only displaying black and white. The entire mask was made of porcelain, while thick black strokes burned into the face. Splotches streaked down the cheeks as if the mask were crying, even though there were no eyes. Despite how intently I stared into the mask, my hands involuntarily let go of it, allowing the sand to swallow it up again. It could have been an instinctive reaction on my part, because suddenly I realized that looking at that face was arousing feelings of misery in my heart as well.

I decided looking around was no longer a wise idea, and forced myself to stop searching the sand for other buried secrets that gave me some clue to Nameless' past. Already my curiosity had thrust me into far too much trouble and I had to focus on finding a way out. So I made myself stand and began to walk forward, keeping my gaze straight ahead.

But then I heard the whispers. Interweaving between the escalating sighs and moans, I could hear the faintest murmur of music. At least, I thought it was music. It was an unfamiliar combination of a shrill string instrument and the wail of some pipe. The two sounds circled around each other, lowly, eerily, brooding quietly from a far away distance.

Perhaps in my resolute disbelief, I thought this was all the wind at first, or maybe a mental trick, but as the sound continued persistently, I realized that stifled voices trailed through the air, begging to be heard, carrying with them the now shrieking stabs of music that lunged at me ruthlessly.

"_I didn't want to die, I didn't want to die, and I was so close to escaping!"_

"_They could have just killed me, but not my son…" _

"_I never did anything wrong—what have I done wrong?"_

"_Please, Ra, no!"_

"_Make it stop!"_

"_The burning won't go away!"_

"_Just put me out of my misery now! Please!"_

"_**Please!**_"

It was too much. I clasped my hands over my ears, squeezing my eyes shut, silently screaming for an end to this horror movie I had the lead in. I was too afraid to open my eyes, but I could have sworn I felt desperate bony fingers slipping around my ankles and pulling me towards the dead earth. I didn't want to find out if it was imagined or real, but it was enough to cause an actual scream to rip from my throat.

The feeling that engulfed me earlier prior to entering the soul room resurfaced again. It was as if every negative emotion known to man had merged into one crushing sensation, throbbing in my temples and wrapping around my body.

I was sure that a second longer of the mental and physical torture would force my mind to insanity.

And then it all stopped.

Silence.

It was so deliberately quiet that the lack of sound was deafening.

My hands slowly fell at my sides as I glanced up hesitantly. Everything was eerily still now, as if holding its breath. The sand had settled to one flat plane, making it much easier for me to maintain my balance. The wind stopped blasting around, and even the sun wasn't as unbearable as it had been seconds ago. The music was smothered to nothingness.

Most importantly, the whispers silenced, buried once more by the sand.

I released a heavy sigh, grateful for the relief from this mysterious place. The relief was temporary, though, as my sigh became strangled from a hitch in breath.

There was a man in the far distance.

I couldn't see much beyond that, but I noticed—with fear, of course—he was walking towards me. His stride was very deliberate, yet there was a swagger to his every step. He seemed unhurried though, as if he had complete control over time.

My heart seemed to rise to my throat as I took a step back. Who was he? Why was there a person in Nameless' soul room?

_Was_ it a person?

I was debating whether or not to run away. I wasn't sure where I would run to—there was apparently no sanctuary in this odd hell—but trying to escape contact with this mystery person would have probably been wiser than staying put.

I turned my back for only a second, checking to see if the door had somehow reappeared. It had not. While I was fleetingly despairing over the loss of my only exit, the sound of footsteps sliced through my thoughts.

I whipped around, terrified when I saw that the man who I had seen _miles _away was now facing me. He now stood about an arm's span apart from me.

My jaw instinctively slackened as my eyes drank in the appearance of the potential threat.

How did he get so close within a _second_? How was that possible?

Instead of asking that, however, I was plagued with an even more disturbing question. Wave after wave of shock coursed through me.

"_Spirit?_" I choked out. Was it really Nameless that stood before me? This man, he looked exactly like him. Only…he didn't, as well.

The man did an odd thing. His head slowly tilted to the side, evaluating me. His eyes seemed to run over every detail of my body, which made me horribly uncomfortable. I took a step back.

"Ryou Bakura," he at last said, his voice a speculative whisper. He said my name with so much relish it made me cringe. The way he drew out every syllable was like he literally tasted them in his mouth. "I…was wondering when I would get to meet you face-to-face."

The feeling of nausea was swelling in my stomach again. As I shook my head, I felt dizzy. "But…no, you're the spirit of the ring, you—"

"Am I?" this man interrupted, still staring at me with such intensity it heightened my fear.

"T-then who are you?" This man's appearance really bothered me. I would have sworn he was Nameless, or at least, some part of him, until I was challenged with my thoughts. That was when I really looked at him, casting my memory of Nameless aside to start over with my perception of this man.

The first thing I observed was his eyes. They were a blank, throbbing black. (I couldn't help but notice that Nameless' eyes were like my own, only closer to the color of henna dye). Maybe under different lighting, this man's eyes would appear as an intense, cement-packed grey. Stretching down over the plane of his forehead, over his right eye and down his cheek, a deep scar stained into his darkened skin.

Yes, that's what was particularly different about him—his skin was noticeably darker than mine, like the color of rich soil. It could have been baking under the sun for years while I only encountered the sun while on my way to school or while running trivial errands.

His face was framed with thick pieces of hair the color of rusty silver. It was wild and windblown, cropped in blunt sections as if with a knife, and fell chaotically across his face.

He didn't wear much more than a white linen kilt, bound tightly by a cloth belt, and an oversized, ruby-stained robe bordered with gold trim. His shoes were simple flat slippers, worn and weathered down from walking in sand. Upon noticing the condition of his shoes, I also noticed the fraying edges to the rest of his outfit. Despite the poor state of his clothes, a staggering amount of gold ornamented his body, glimmering faintly from the sun's glare.

He looked like a picture ripped out of an ancient history book brought to life. There was something surreal about this man standing before me, as if he…well, as if he weren't _real_.

Taking his entire appearance into account, something finally clicked in my mind. I felt color draining from my face as my eyes dared to meet up with this stranger's once more.

"_My dream_…" I whispered incredulously. A flash of a nightmare I had days ago, a nightmare involving a blinding white room and a man with the red cloak, resurfaced in my mind. Was it some sort of premonition, was I supposed to meet this person?

The man smiled slyly at me, exposing his razor teeth. "Ryou Bakura, I wouldn't think too hard about it. Besides, I don't want the focus to be on me, but on _you_."

I felt unsteady, standing where I was. I felt like I could collapse at any second. "How do know who I am? If you're really not the spirit, then I haven't met you in my life—"

"But we are inside _your_ body, no?" The man grinned. He looked like he kept some major secret, but was so excited about it he would reveal it at any second. "I think it would be safe to say that I know you _so very well_." The way he dragged out his last words was as agonizing as hearing a blade claw down a chalkboard. I was confused by so many things though, that I found myself speechless.

For whatever reason, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. My gaze remained glued to those enigmatic, unreadable eyes, trying to piece together what scarce information I was given. More than anything, I wanted to find out who this man truly was. I was sure on one thing, though: he could _not_ have been Nameless. Even from the few words this man had spoken, he had proved to be completely different.

I suppose what caught my attention the most, what thoroughly shocked me, was that this man called me by my name.

Nameless called me "Vessel."

And just for that reason alone, I felt some bizarre connection to this stranger, even though my instincts screamed at me to run in the opposite direction.

So I did not run.

I allowed my curiosity to get the best of me. "Why is it I have never seen you before?"

I realized that this man had a very expressive face. He would appear pleased, then twist his features to speculative, then casually remorseful, all within the span of a few seconds. This was what I observed as I watched him compose an answer.

Finally, he settled on woeful, his voice carrying a humorous edge. "I don't believe I'm 'allowed' to see you." I could tell he was stifling his laughter, his eyes crinkled with amusement.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing at all, Ryou Bakura, not if I _reeeally_ think about it. The concept of someone _allowing_ me permission is highly entertaining. Ironic, I could say," the man replied with a shrug, idly examining the hem of his unraveling sleeve. He then let his arm drop loosely at his side, as if he were being held up by strings and one of them had been cut.

I wasn't sure how to reply to this man's statement—after all, what could I have possibly said about something so vague? I had no idea what he was referring to. And I also had a strong suspicion that asking him for details would be a futile effort.

I was forced to refocus my attention when the man drew himself even closer to me. Each step was slow, weighed down by his heavy swagger. He almost had the gait of a drunk person. Why was my heart pounding so forcefully it hurt? My natural response gravitated around this one man, as if he controlled every ragged breath I took.

My legs began to inch backwards. Something was telling me to not get too close, but I couldn't quite explain what. It made no sense, considering this stranger seemed a lot more personable than Nameless. He was definitely weirder, but there was just no way he could do _that _much harm. After all, anyone who addressed me by my real name _had _to be a decent person.

Alarm electrocuted my body when the man impulsively reached out to grab my wrist.

"W-what are you—"

"You keep edging away, Ryou Bakura," the man sighed, using his grip to pull me in closer. "I fear you may run. Just stay here a while, yes? It gets rather desolate out in this wasteland for eons on end."

He was too close. I didn't like the way I was forced to stare up at his face and his blank slate eyes. They were unnerving.

I quickly looked down at the ground, my face flushing. "May I ask you something?"

A saw a brief flash of teeth. "Anything."

"What's your name?" I used this question as a distraction, leaping at the opportunity to pull my arm out of the man's grasp the moment I asked. I really did want to know the answer, though.

A calculated silence spread out between us. I could tell he was thinking about his response, which made me apprehensive. How could such a simple answer become so complicated?

Finally, he moved his face close to mine, as if trying to be particularly convincing. "You may call me the Thief King."

"Excuse me?" The Thief King? That's what he wanted to be called? Why not his real name…?

"No need to repeat myself. Just call me as I've requested," the 'Thief King' replied, suddenly smirking to an internal joke. "Or, I suppose you could always call me—"

The Thief King was abruptly cut off when we both heard an unusually loud howl of wind, screaming in our faces. I closed my eyes against the gust for just a second, but when I reopened them, Nameless was suddenly standing in front of me, slicing through the distance between my new acquaintance and myself.

His back was facing me, but I didn't have to see his face to hear the pure _anger_ in his voice.

"How _dare_ you," Nameless quietly said to the Thief King. His voice was so low I could barely hear it above the shrieking wind, but somehow it cut through like a chainsaw. "Did you forget?"

The Thief King evaluated Nameless for a brief second before waving his hand away dismissively. "Don't insult me with such a silly question. Of course not. I never sought Ryou out on my own…no, he did that for me." The Thief King briefly considered his words before grinning dangerously. His eyes met with mine. "We had a nice chat."

From behind, I could see Nameless' shoulders tighten, his fists clenching. "Enough! I don't care how it happened, all I know is that it _did_." Nameless paused here before looking over his shoulder at me. "You. I want you to leave _now_."

I jumped at the sudden acknowledgement, too absorbed in the interaction between the two look-a-likes. I opened up my mouth to point out that there was no door, but on cue, one appeared beside me.

"You making poor little Ryou Bakura leave already?" the Thief King abruptly piped up, feigning scorn. "Really, Spirit of the ring, what are you afraid of?"

"We made a _deal_," Nameless answered slowly, emphasizing his final word. "If it weren't for me—"

"Let's not bring that up again, yes?" the Thief King interrupted. His gaze lazily trailed over to me. "I assume we _will_ meet again, one way or the other."

Nameless' head snapped over to me. "You're still here? Damn it, Vessel, what the _hell_ did I just tell you?"

"I—" I cut myself off when I caught sight of Nameless' face. It was so…white, so unnaturally white it scared me. Why did he look like that? I wondered if the Thief King noticed, too.

Without another word, I approached the door and exited. Between the short span of time that passed while I was leaving, I heard the haughty and sure voice of the Thief King:

"I _will_ see him again."

* * *

"_Vessel_."

I flinched at Nameless' voice, hearing the sharp edge to it. Hesitantly, I turned myself to face him.

"_What_ were you doing in there." As always, whenever Nameless threw out his question in a flat tone, I knew he was furious.

I shifted my gaze over to the apple tree a short distance away in my soul room, looking anywhere but at the spirit's face. I knew that the instant I stepped foot out of Nameless' soul room, I would be facing his wrath momentarily. I also knew that I had overstepped my boundaries a hundred times over.

"Spirit, I wasn't trying to—"

"I don't care what you're feeling now, I demand to know what made you think you could enter _my_ soul room without any warning whatsoever."

"Well if you knew about it, obviously you wouldn't have let me in!"

"_Exactly!_" Nameless yelled, his eyes narrowed and dark. "I would _never_ let you in because of at least a thousand reasons you would never even begin to understand. But understand _this_, Vessel: you are lucky to be alive."

My vision flicked back to the enraged spirit. "What?"

Nameless' lips twisted in a wry smile. "Did that get your attention? Good. If I hadn't come in when I did, who knows where you would have ended up." Nameless paused here, his face suddenly wringing into a livid scowl, spitting at the ground. "Argh! I should have let you die. You stupid host of mine, you deserved it."

I winced as I watched the spirit fume. Was I supposed to say "thank you"? I sure didn't feel grateful.

Nameless stopped glaring at the ground as he took a deep breath. His lifted his eyes to shoot daggers at me, taking a step closer. "You are _never_ to go back in there, do you understand me?"

I looked away, suppressing my frustration.

_As if you care about my __**soul**__, you just need my __**body**__,_ I wanted to say.

Instead I bit my tongue. "Yes."

Nameless' anger seemed to deflate somewhat, his shoulders sagging. His face was still contorted in rage though, which honestly confused me. His soul room was overwhelming, yes, but I couldn't see any threats capable of killing me.

And what, exactly, did Nameless define as a "threat"? My mind was spinning with so many questions I had trouble keeping them straight. But there were particularly a lot about what I experienced upon entering Nameless' soul room. I was determined to find out _something_.

"Spirit?"

"_What_."

"Why were there skeletons in your soul room? There were so many—"

"We're not talking about any of this because it's none of your business," Nameless coldly interjected. "Now go back out there in the 'real world' and try to make yourself scarce. I don't feel like doing a job that suits you so well."

I shot Nameless a dirty look. "Glad I could be of service."

Nameless said nothing in response to this, opting to turn around and leave the room instead. He announced his departure with a resounding slam from the door. I stared at it, wondering why the spirit was acting so odd. I really wished he could answer at least some of the questions I had, but I could easily tell he would never give me even a hint. He was just too stubborn, not to mention distant.

What really aroused my curiosity was the Thief King. Of course, judging from Nameless' explosive reaction to him, I was afraid to ask. Who exactly was he? Where did he come from? Why did Nameless act so…_strange_ around him? Out of everything that I had witnessed in Nameless' soul room, it was his attitude around the Thief King that shook me the most.

And what was that emotion I saw linger so strongly in his eyes? Swirling within his dark mahogany orbs, there were traces of hesitation, maybe his usual rage, but most of all, there was something close to _fear_. And then I realized, I could handle his anger, and yes, even his arrogance, but not that. Not from the spirit of the ring. Nameless was this impenetrable entity, a boulder, that could not be moved or broken.

Thinking back on that one moment, the moment when Nameless glanced back at me with that odd expression on his face, I shuddered.

Something was not right.

* * *

Upon reawakening to the outside world I immediately realized I was crammed into a very tight space. It was dark, damp, and smelled strongly of mildew, all of which didn't lighten my mood. On top of that, the back of my jeans were thoroughly soaked through and my sweater felt increasingly scratchy.

It didn't take much speculation to recognize I was hiding in a storage room.

"Really?" I asked aloud, hoping Nameless would hear me. Maybe he did, but he didn't bother answering. I sighed, which then turned into a groan, as I tripped over a pair of broomsticks to reach the door handle. "Thanks for stuffing me in here!" I lightly called out. Still there was no answer. For whatever reason, even though I usually detested hearing from Nameless, his lack of presence annoyed me.

I decided not to dwell on it, more eager to get out of the storage room. Turning the handle, I gingerly peeked out to survey my surroundings. No one was nearby, which allowed me to sneak out without any detection from a bystander. Even _I_ wasn't oblivious enough to stroll out of a storage room as if it were an everyday activity.

A warm gust of wind greeted me as I stepped out onto the deck, which I was grateful for. Already I could feel my clothes beginning to dry and my skin didn't feel nearly as sticky. Glancing about me, I realized that most of the people—or I guess at this point _duelists_—were gravitating around the lower floors probably to grab some food or check out the rooms. This was, after all, a cruise ship. I could imagine that Jounouchi and Honda especially would be taking full advantage of the meals. I briefly wondered where all my friends were and what they were doing. Yuugi, I was sure, was probably trading cards with some other equally enthused duelist.

I approached the railing of the ship, grabbing a hold of one of the bars. It felt wonderful to have the wind whipping past me and the warm sun to bathe me with its embracing heat; it was far more welcoming than the very same elements that existed in Nameless' soul room. To be out and away from everyone, just to stand there in solitude, gave me the peace I needed to calm down from the events that happened a short while ago.

I leaned my head into one of my hands, closing my eyes. The gentle rocking motion of the ship was making me drowsy, and suddenly I wanted to rest my eyes, if only for a few seconds. Off in the distance, I could hear the shrill cry of seagulls and the rhythmic sound of frothy waves collapsing against the boat. As the seconds leisurely drifted on by, I became increasingly aware of how tired I was…

An image of the Thief King drifted across my mind.

His throbbing black eyes and lazy smile appeared as I heard his soft and sure chuckle. "_Ryou Bakura_," his voice quietly resounded in my head, blending in with the sounds of the sea.

I opened my eyes, startled by the clarity of his face and voice. Unease began to lap at my insides, sloshing around like laundry in a washing machine.

As my eyes, delirious from exhaustion, took in the scene before me, fear suddenly wrapped around my body. I realized the image of the Thief King had come to me so strongly that I could see his face stained into the distant clouds for a few brief seconds until I shook my head. I had to remind myself it was only a hallucination.

I could, however, still hear that unnerving laugh and his smooth voice, so casual yet secretly serious with his words.

"_I __**will **__see you again_."

* * *

A/N: All right, so I've managed to update with yet another chapter, so I'm pretty pleased with myself. Of course, now the time has come that I have to leave for college again so updates will once more be scarce. As I've always said before, I'm sorry 1000xs over about once more falling off the face of the fanfiction planet and I'll try to be prompt with writing another chapter if I ever get the chance. Remember that no matter how long an update may take me, I'll never abandon this story, okay? But for the sake of my happiness, a review would be absolutely lovely :)


	14. Conspiracy

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot—will not—let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: The day has finally come—I am updating! So, it's no surprise I've been dead on fanfiction because of school. Seriously, there was absolutely no time. But guess what? It's not like I allowed my writing skills to get rusty within the past couple months. I had to write 100 pages worth of fiction material if I wanted to pass one of my classes. Yes, that's right—100 pages! Honestly, the day before my assignment was due, I was going to shoot myself. But I got it done, and now school's over, and I've got a bunch of semi-free time on my hands...until summer classes start. Ugh. Nonetheless, here I am. So enough about me, on with Ryou ;)

Chapter Fourteen- Conspiracy

_He_ wouldn't talk to me.

He could have been mad at me for invading his soul room, but then again, I'm sure he would just be yelling at me or trying to conceive of a way to make my life more miserable. But it wasn't in his nature to not say anything. He was being suspiciously quiet while I floundered about the premises of the ship, refusing to answer any of my questions or accusations. It made me nervous, as if there was something serious going on that I didn't know about…the image of the Thief King kept popping up in my mind, which further egged on my anxiety. But I knew I had an explosive imagination, and was probably making something out of nothing. So I followed my other theory and assumed that Nameless was not speaking to me simply because he was angry.

"You're such a _child_," I huffed, even though I knew it was a futile effort to rouse a response from him, "I know you can't stay like this for long." And yet…if Nameless could keep his mouth shut for an entire day, then I'm the king of thieves. But as expected, the spirit of the ring said nothing, which left me to explore my surroundings in relative solitude. No criticisms or commands jabbed at me while I made my own decisions. I suppose I was grateful for that.

I still couldn't get over how extravagant everything was. I was on the sort of cruise ship that I thought I could only dream of. Servers floated leisurely throughout the ship with platters resting invitingly against the palms of their hands, carrying arrays of exotic fruits, cheeses, and other vibrant hors d'oeuvres. Of course there were flutes of champagne, which I politely declined on several occasions when offered. I couldn't help but wonder what Pegasus was thinking: he obviously knew there would be plenty of people under the legal drinking age. I'd wager that he simply didn't care, or was above fretting the technicalities. I vaguely wondered what Yuugi would have done if offered anything. I bit back a smile.

"Oh, well _excuse _me darling, I can't help it you're nothing but a washed-up nobody. If you can't win a simple game of blackjack, how do you expect to win _me_?"

I whirled around at the wildly confident, alluring voice that tore through the lazy melody of a nearby string quartet. It was getting louder as I heard the determined clicks of high heels coming into contact with the immaculate wooden floor. I managed to step aside just in time, because quite unexpectedly, the owner to this voice barreled right past me, as if I weren't even there. I blinked back my surprise at this woman's assertiveness, but my interest came more from what she said to the man who was desperately following her.

"Mai, _Mai_, wait, it was just a game! There are other—"

The way this woman named Mai impulsively whipped around demanded immediate silence from the poor man who had to contend with her. Her oddly wild orchid-stained orbs bore into the man with such intensity even I could feel it.

"'_Just_ a game'…?" she parroted, her voice tinged with challenge. An eyebrow slowly lifted, indicating that she couldn't possibly disagree more. "Tell me, Ryuzaki, why are we going to Pegasus's island?"

The man sighed, stopping a short distance away from Mai. "To compete in a tournament." He ran a hand through his hair, almost as a gesture of defeat. I could tell he knew exactly what this woman was going to say. She seemed like the sort of person who had unspoken rules, and any sort of deviation from them would be unacceptable. Zero tolerance on losing was probably one of them.

This woman, with her golden Amazonian hair whipping chaotically around her, tossed her head back. "That's exactly right, Ryuzaki, to compete in a tournament. But it's also more than that—I'm not just competing, I'm competing to _win_." Mai's orbs slowly trailed up to meet Ryuzaki's face. "Aren't you?"

"Well, I—yeah. Obviously." Ryuzaki suddenly looked uncomfortable, squirming under Mai's stare.

Mai finally turned away, done with him. "Men like you make me sick. They really do. You, Ryuzaki, have enough arrogance to think you stand a chance against the best gamers out there, but the instant when hard work or serious endurance is involved, you shy away. I saw that the moment you folded your hand, afraid of the consequences of losing the gamble. You fear the unknown—you're afraid of putting yourself on the line. That is no way to live." She impulsively folded her arms over her chest, now facing the swirling ocean water. "Get out of my sight."

"Now hold on a second, Mai—"

"_Leave_." Even I couldn't help but cringe at the severity of this woman's voice. How she was able to sculpt her tone to sound so harsh and frigid…it couldn't be matched. Nameless, of course, would have been the only exception.

Ryuzaki gathered up enough nerve to gaze at Mai for a second in silence. Finally, he too turned away, starting to walk down the side of the ship, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his head ducked. I almost felt sorry for him.

But Ryuzaki wasn't done yet. He stopped, then pivoted back to face his rejecter. "Mai."

The woman didn't say anything, her gaze transfixed on the ocean engulfing the ship. Ryuzaki took it as his chance to continue. "I'll prove you wrong. I'll show you that I am capable of being in this tournament."

Mai scoffed at this, tilting her head slightly in speculation. Clearly Ryuzaki captured her attention, at least for the moment. "But I'm never wrong," she said.

"I'll prove otherwise," Ryuzaki asserted. "Meet me in room 306 tonight. I challenge you to a duel, Mai, and I'll win."

Silence, except for the ocean waves collapsing against the ship, permeated the distance between these two interesting strangers. I didn't mean to be eavesdropping so intently, but my curiosity refused to let me be tactful.

Mai broke out into a laugh. It was soaked with such mockery that it made Ryuzaki wince. I was being convinced increasingly by the second that this was a very cruel woman. I didn't have much experience with the opposite gender, but she was so different from the other females I'd encountered. I wondered why she had such a tough exterior…was she like that on the inside, too?

"Ryuzaki…strong words coming from you," she said. Her voice was softer than her laugh, but filled with scorn nonetheless. "I accept your challenge. But let's raise the stakes a bit. What do I get if I win this duel?"

Ryuzaki reached into his pockets and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a healthy wad of cash. "Fifty-thousand yen. Is that enough for you?" I examined his face. I could see the trepidation contorting it, afraid to be surrendering so much money for one game. But he tried to appear collected anyway.

Mai's garnet-stained lips twisted into a half-smile. "What, change of heart, Big Spender? I'm sorry, but that's not what I want."

Ryuzaki's shoulders slumped. "Then what _do _you want?"

Mai's gaze suddenly became even more intense. "Your room."

Ryuzaki gaped. "Why do you want my room? Don't _you_ have…" He trailed off, slowly making the connection. "Wait, you don't have a—?"

"That's right."

"Then how did you—?"

Mai flicked a long strand of hair over her shoulder impatiently. "Come on. You're a big boy. Figure it out."

Ryuzaki flushed at Mai's patronizing tone before he shook his head. He shoved the cash back into his pocket. "I should have known that you of all people would—fine. If you win, you get my room. So if _I_ win…" he hesitated, right before smoothing over his face, "I get you."

Mai blinked back her surprise before waving him off. "Let's be serious, hm? You'll quickly realize that you wouldn't be winning anything at all—"

"No," Ryuzaki interjected. "That's what I want."

Mai stared at him stoically for a moment, gauging his seriousness. Finally, she smirked. "Deal." She then turned away from him as she had done before, officially indicating the end of the conversation. "You're a fool, though," she said, calling over her shoulder. "You're screwed no matter how the game turns out."

"I'll take my chances," Ryuzaki returned, still seeming pleased with himself. He had a wolfish smile, which accentuated the fact how _hungry _he looked. But not for food.

"So tonight at nine, then. Room 306. Don't forget." Ryuzaki waited for a response to this, but received none. His eyes bore into the back of Mai's frame for a few extended seconds before he finally turned away and stalked off.

Mai suddenly broke into a bitter laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkled in contempt. I wondered in contempt for what. Or who. She leaned heavily over the railing of the ship, looking straight down into the water as if trying to read her fortune. She looked distant, distracted.

I finally managed to unglue myself from my spot, shifting my weight to my other leg. I was a considerable distance away from this woman, but was certainly close enough to have heard everything.

It was right when I began to head off that I was forced to stop yet again.

"Wait," a harsh voice commanded. I slowly glanced back at the woman whom I was scrutinizing for the past five minutes. Was she talking to me? I managed to rotate my body enough to face her, waiting expectantly.

"You were listening."

I winced, suddenly aghast at how noticeable I must have been. A felt a familiar burning heat spread over my face. Well, there was no point in denying the obvious. "I was," I admitted. "I'm sorry."

"I hate apologies," Mai commented, her eyes still not meeting mine. "We all do things for a reason. What's yours?"

I floundered. "My reason?"

"Yes."

"I was just curious, I guess," I offered. "I didn't mean to be so—"

"It doesn't matter," Mai sighed. "You found out that I don't belong here. That's too much information for one stranger to have. Who are you going to tell?"

"Well, nobody, obviously—"

"Liar." Mai's eyes were suddenly blazing, like a pile of dry wood doused in kerosene and lit with a match. "That's what they all say." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger up at a sign, plastered against the wall of a door: "_See anyone suspicious? Let the authorities know. 75,000 yen reward_."

Mai finally pushed away from the railing, folding her arms over her chest. "Money is the number one influence in a person's life. You would tell someone just to get a reward."

"You don't even _know _me," I asserted with a rush of annoyance, shaking my head. "I'm not _like_ everyone else." I hesitated, considering what I had just said. Why was I talking to this strange woman? Why was I telling her anything at all? I wanted to leave, but her gaze held me hostage.

"I can _see_ that," Mai said. In a moment's time, she was standing in front of me, far too close for my comfort. She grasped a strand of my hair and tugged on it. "It was your hair that made it so obvious that you were watching me. I haven't seen anything like it."

I felt Nameless stir inside of me, alert now from an intruding hand. I could tell he was watching suspiciously, ensuring that nothing harmful was going to happen. It's like he always said, a dead host is a useless host.

But Mai let go of my hair, her eyes level with mine now. Way too close. I stepped back. "How do I know you're not going to tell anyone? You could ruin _everything_ for me, with just one little confession. Do you realize that?"

I bit my lip. "I do now." Her intensity was unnerving. I wished I never let my curiosity get the best of me.

"This tournament is my one chance to win a million yen. A million! That could buy me a whole new life—I would never have to contend with scum like that fool you saw a few minutes ago. I wouldn't need to get myself involved with such deals." Mai leaned in closer, as if to be extra convincing. Or intimidating. "I need your word that you will not tell a soul about what you found out just now. Because if you tell _anyone_ about me not belonging here—"

"I don't either!" I interrupted quickly. "Please believe me, I'm not out to inconvenience you in any way. I'm sorry it wasn't my place to be doing so, I have a horrible habit of just watching people."

"Wait, what did you just say?" Mai arched an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip.

"I said I'm sorry I—"

Mai held up a hand. "No. You said you don't belong here either."

I paled. "Ah, yes, I-I did say that, didn't I?" Oh no. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that. Would Nameless be upset? But as far as I could tell, he didn't seem too concerned. He was done being alert, apparently thinking I wasn't in any danger now. I sighed.

Mai seemed pleasantly surprised. "Now there's a shock. You look far too innocent to be bending the rules. What could your motivation be, to sneak into this tournament? Do you aspire to gain the monetary reward too? I can't imagine why—you look like you've got at least _some_ money." She chuckled as a finger brushed against my cashmere sweater. "I see your past, and it's filled with private lessons, caviar, and numerous social gatherings. Am I right?"

I strained to keep my voice seamless. "Only somewhat." I guess she would have been right, if I had lived the life my grandparents would have wanted. Because of my mother's insistence for blending into the crowd—a futile attempt, in every way imaginable—and because of some very odd circumstances, that never became a reality for me. I never wanted to live the rich man's life, but maybe…maybe it would have been preferable, if it could have spared me from the one I am living now. Instinctively, my hand glided over the ring, feeling the sharp cool metal against my palm and fingertips.

"I used to have that sort of life, once," Mai said, her voice slightly nostalgic, quiet. "There was a sort of comfort in knowing that I had financial stability no matter what I did. I could gamble away millions of yen and it wouldn't matter. If I wanted to travel to Italy, then it would be done. Everything was so easy. But you already know that, don't you, rich boy?"

"I'm not wealthy," I replied calmly, returning her eye contact.

"But you used to be, I can tell. Your speech gives you away. And your dress, but that can be misleading. I suppose a thief could appear wealthy." I eyed her heels, with the tell-tale Gucci insignia on them. Mai interrupted my trail of thoughts. "So again, why are you here?"

I technically knew the answer, but it would have made sense to no one except for those cursed enough to be involved with the millennium items. I gave a slight roll of my shoulders. "I don't know."

Mai threw back her head for a fleeting laugh. "That's all right, you don't have to tell me the truth. I wouldn't trust me either. But, for the limited amount I already know about you, I'd say we've got a pretty great deal in common. For instance, we both do not belong on this ship, and we certainly do not belong in the tournament. Am I right?"

I nodded my head guardedly.

"Well, stranger, let's make our own deal. If you don't tell anyone about my unwelcome here, then I won't say anything about yours. Deal?" She held out a slender hand.

I carefully took it in mine and we shook. Her hand felt surprisingly fragile, warm. "I wasn't planning on telling anyone to begin with," I said. "But, deal."

Mai smiled. It was different from the ones that I had seen on her before. "What's your name?"

"Bakura."

"Okay, Bakura, I guess I'll be seeing you around the ship. Stay outta trouble now, you hear? Us rule-breakers need to stay on the down low. But, I'm sure you already understand this." She released my hand before turning away, heading off to her most recent destination. "Later, darling." And just like that, she vanished, meshing into the strings of people mingling about the ship. The distinct clicking of her heels mixed with the footsteps of others and the conversations filtering throughout the breezy air.

I stared at the countless unrecognizable faces surrounding me, and the constantly moving servers drifting across the floor, almost as a sort of waltz. I wondered how someone like Mai could blend so easily into this crowd. If she felt any spec of guilt, she was brilliant at masking it. This sort of life, the sneaking around to avoid getting caught, seemed natural to her, yet I felt very much like the wounded antelope in the wild. It made me dizzy to think that at any given moment, a predator might creep up and claim hold of my life.

"Would you care for some champagne, sir?" a server asked me, nudging a tray in my direction.

"I'm sixteen," I said slowly. I'm pretty sure this was the same person who asked me a little while ago.

He frowned, his eyes insistent. "Would you like some champagne, sir?" he asked again.

I blinked. "I already said no." Seriously, what on earth was this man's problem?

The server shrugged. "Suit yourself." He proceeded to ask various other people, who happily accepted.

I sighed, beginning to head in the other direction. I nearly ran into another server. She smiled at me. Her teeth were big, white. "Sir, would you like—"

"No, no thank you," I said, straining to keep my voice level. "I'm underage."

"Oh, but this isn't alcohol, honey, it's just sparkling grape juice."

What was I now, twelve? On the other hand, if I had something in my hand, maybe I wouldn't be asked again. "Thank you," I said, taking a glass flute from her. It was filled with a light golden liquid, glittering from the miniscule bubbles that swirled about. The server sauntered away, proceeding to ask other guests the same question.

I vaguely wondered why the servers were being so pushy. Pegasus could have instructed them to ensure that everyone had something to drink and eat, but still, it was going a little overboard. I absentmindedly brought the glass to my lips.

"_Don't drink that_," Nameless suddenly asserted, his voice coming as a jolt of electricity. He had materialized beside me, his burgundy eyes intense and demanding. I cocked my head at him.

"Oh, hello," I said casually, "It's nice to see that you're talking to me again."

"_Cut the sarcasm, Vessel, there's a bigger issue at hand here_," Nameless hotly replied. "_There's a reason you've been asked to drink something numerous times_."

My mood quickly became heavier than it was before as I stared at him. "_What_?" I gasped. "You mean…are you sure?" Was Pegasus trying to poison the people on the ship? Would he really do that? I thought he was trying to run a tournament…but that wouldn't be possible if there was no one to compete…

Nameless read my thoughts. "_No, I don't think he would poison anyone. That doesn't run in conjunction with his intentions…"_

My brow furrowed. "So, you really don't know for sure, then." Of course Nameless would blow a situation out of proportion to this extent. It was in his nature, to find any scrap of chaos he could get his hands on.

"_Do __**not**__ doubt my ability to sniff out a conspiracy_," Nameless growled. "_It's just a matter of finding out what Pegasus's intentions are_."

I decided to not question Nameless any further on the matter, as I tilted my glass to let its contents spill over the railing of the ship. "So what do we do now?" I watched as the sun-soaked liquid cascaded farther and farther down into oblivion, wishing for once that a situation could be perceived as normal.

"_Look around you_," Nameless answered. "_Notice anything odd?_" Glancing about me, all I really saw was the huge mass of people who crowded the deck of the ship. More and more of them were filing out of the lower floors, wanted to enjoy the sun as it rose higher in the sky. It was getting noticeably louder. I could still hear the casual but insistent, "Excuse me, sir, would you care for a glass of…?" But there was something else, something maybe too small to mention.

"Aside from the servers? No, not particularly," I answered truthfully, "But…" Nameless stared at me hard, probing me to continue. "Some people seem to be acting…well, a little drunk." I bit my lip. "But that's probably because of the champagne."

I waited for Nameless to laugh at my observation, but nothing came. He was still unusually engaged in our conversation. Shock washed over me as I saw he even nodded his head. "_Look at them all, barely able to stand straight. Moronic animals. No, it isn't the alcohol. There wouldn't be as many people acting in this way._" I watched as a small group of duelists tried to show their cards to each other but kept dropping them all over the place. Laughter was becoming just as frequent as conversation. It continued to grow louder.

I was still confused. "But, why?"

Nameless glanced around the ship slowly, his eyes calculating. Finally he turned to me. "_I'm taking over_." Before I could say anything, our dominance over my body switched, and in seconds I found myself in my soul room. I groaned. "Seriously? You could have given me more of a warning!" I shouted to the endless sky.

I quickly rose to my feet, my head whipping about me. A thought then came to me. If Nameless could materialize next to me when I was in control, then why couldn't I? It was worth a try, especially considering that I intended to find out what exactly Pegasus was scheming. I strode over to the door in the center of my soul room and reached for the handle. It was locked.

I glared at the door, wishing there would be some other way to get past it. I knew I didn't have to the strength to break it open…

I suddenly heard footsteps, but they weren't coming from anywhere inside my soul room. I pressed my ear against the door, closing my eyes to listen better. I heard a faint echo reverberating from the depths of the hallway. My eyes widened.

"Spirit…?" I called. There wasn't an answer. And, based on what I was seeing through the looking glass in front of the door, Nameless wasn't paying me any attention whatsoever.

Then who…?

The doorknob began twisting. I let out a startled cry, jumping back as if electrocuted. I watched in awe as the doorknob rotated back and forth slowly, and then, with a resolute thud, the door swung open. I gaped at the empty door frame, seeing no one.

I carefully approached the door, peering out from my soul room. "Hello?" I called out, my voice resounding down the impossibly vacant hallway. Darkness blanketed the entire area, except for the light in my soul room spilling out and creating a small ring of vision from the foot of my door. As expected, Nameless' soul room was completely sealed shut, and frankly, I wouldn't dare to try to get in again anytime soon.

My head whipped back and forth down both ends of the hallway, which seemed to stretch out into nothingness. "Hello?" I said again, a little bit louder. I knew I hadn't done anything to open the door, so who or what did it for me? I supposed it could have been the Thief King, but I thought he only existed in the confines of Nameless' soul room…?

Against my better judgment, I began walking down one end of the hallway. If I strained my eyes, I thought I saw a faint glimmer of light. As I went farther along this foreign path, the light from my room eventually faded out, leaving me to wander completely in the dark. A few steps further down this hall, I paused, glancing back at my soul room. I forgot to shut the door. But then I shook my head, suddenly feeling ridiculous. As if it mattered—who would get in?

The farther I walked, I began to hear a noise that grew louder, and the faint glimmer of light I had seen moments ago was becoming more visible. I broke out into a run, wanting to find out what lurked at the end of this hallway—if there _was_ an end to this hallway. The sounds were becoming more audible now…it sounded like a collage of voices, maybe the sound of splashing water? And the light continued to grow, bigger and bigger, until I was engulfed in it…

I blinked, sunlight smacking me in the face. I whirred around, seeing so many unrecognizable faces, and the ocean water, extending past my field of vision. It was odd though, I seemed so high up…

Nameless' vibrant crimson eyes bore into mine, not more than an inch away. I flinched, jumping back with a yelp. "_My __**God**__, you could warn me if you're going to be that close_—!"

"What are you doing out here?" Nameless replied instead. He stared at me, his face shaped according to the sense of exasperation usually dominating his feelings. His eyebrows were lifted slightly though, almost as if he were amused by something.

I shook my head. "_I don't know_," I answered truthfully. "_But why am I so high up? I don't really feel stable…_"

Nameless snorted. "You idiot, have you not figured it out yet? You're a spirit now." His face suddenly grew darker. "As to how you managed _that_, I have no idea."

I glanced down at my hands, wondering how I hadn't noticed before that they were translucent. And I was floating, which was even stranger than being transparent. I decided to not dwell on my recent discovery though, knowing that Nameless was getting impatient. "_So why did you need to take over?_" I inquired.

"First, I don't _need_ a reason to take control of our body," Nameless felt the need to point out. "But this glass,"—he held up the champagne flute—"is the key to answering some questions. The very smell that lingers at the bottom will indicate what exactly Pegasus had put in here."

"_You_ _can identify these sorts of things?_" I said incredulously.

"For the most part," Nameless said dismissively. "Many of the drugs used today are rooted to the ones that were used back during ancient times. I may be able to pick up on some traces of a plant I am familiar with."

"_But just through __**smell**__?_" I still couldn't believe it.

Nameless didn't bother to answer me, probably growing tired of my endless questions, as he held the glass up to his face. I refrained from speaking as the seconds passed.

"Henbane plant," he murmured absentmindedly. He swirled the glass around, letting the dregs of the juice coat the bottom. He closed his eyes, letting the smell fill his nostrils once more. "It can be used as a truth serum. Pegasus is trying to get some answers from the guests on his ship_._"

"_Answers?_" I repeated in disbelief. "_How_ _do you know for sure_—"

"When I was among the living, we would use this frequently to arouse the truth from those who hid it_._"

I gaped at him. Why would Nameless ever need to extract confidential information from anyone—for what purpose? "_Who exactly __**are**__ you?_" I questioned. Even as I said it, I knew Nameless had no intention of telling me. And of course, there was something more immediate that had to be dealt with. But I still couldn't help but wonder, how could a person be able to identify a plant based off the remains at the bottom of a glass?

"The Henbane plant has a very distinct smell," Nameless chose to answer instead. A devious smile spread across his lips. "A bitter, sickly sour odor that remains unmatched to this day. Pegasus—that bastard—thought he could mask its stench with overly sweet beverages such as this juice. It's not so easy to slip into food, though. How clever of him." He began walking, forcing me to drift after him. Something had caught his gaze.

"_Wait—where are we going?_" My eyes darted about wildly, looking to see what was the object of Nameless' transfixion. His walk sped up to a more determined stride, his eyes never leaving what he found so interesting.

He kept on with following his target, and soon I discovered we were trailing after what appeared to be a security guard and a short person with an absurd shade of aqua hair. I couldn't say I was a fan of his outfit, either. From what I could see, he also seemed to be sporting an oversized pair of gold-rimmed frames. The security guard had this person by the wrist, dragging him out of the crowd and out of sight. Within seconds they turned a corner, perhaps disappearing to a lower floor.

Nameless expertly weaved throughout the crowd, going at an agile pace without drawing attention. His face was smoothed over to appear nonchalant to the casual observer, but I saw that familiar flame of determination ignite in his eyes, thrilled with the chase.

It didn't take long for Nameless to round the corner as well, and it took him an even shorter time to spot a nearby door, which read, "_Employees Only_." This part of the ship was relatively vacant, indicating that the guard and the person he was leading had in fact gone through there. Nameless grabbed a hold of the doorknob, twisting it open to reveal a flight of descending stairs. Off in the distance, we could hear a pair of voices, bouncing off the walls. It sounded like one of them had cried out, "Where are we going? What are you doing?" while the other— undoubtedly the security guard—tried to calm him down.

Nameless spared a quick glance over his shoulder to meet my eyes.

"_Now_," he said, an eager smirk twisting his features, "We will get some answers."


	15. Spy Games

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot—will not—let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: Apologies for the delay! I have been working on various one-shots, none of which are close to completion but at least started! But I wanted to make sure I have at least this updated before my summer classes start, which is on Tuesday (6/1).

…So the Sennen ring is the shit. Lol, in other words, I think I gave it more powers than it had in the canon, so I'm sorry for that, but we need more action! Nothing too drastic though, I promise.

Thank you all SO much for reading and reviewing this! I have read each and every review with an overwhelming feeling of joy :) Your encouragement keeps me going!

Chapter Fifteen- Spy Games

Apparently, the "Employees Only" section of the ship was intended to be a labyrinth. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs where we had followed our targets, Nameless and I soon discovered how very difficult it might be to find our way out if we lost track of where we were. Innumerable twists and turns branched off from the initial hallway, leaving it nearly impossible to keep up with the chase. Nameless must have had a trained ear to listen though, for he seemed to have no trouble keeping up. His prowl down the hallways was silent and swift, lurking as subtly as a shadow. I was glad I wasn't the one doing the moving, because there's no doubt in my mind I would have tripped or drawn attention to myself at some point.

I listened to Nameless' steady breathing for a few moments in silence, anxiously wondering when we would finally discover where the security guard and the aqua-haired boy would end up. My mind began to wander though, as I marked the seconds according to the spirit's rhythmic intakes of breath, thinking back to a little bit ago. How in just that short of time, Nameless and I went from zero communication to semi-accomplices. Well, not that I was helping much. But still, the drastic change snagged my interest.

"_Spirit_," I said, watching Nameless glide around a corner soundlessly.

He cast me an annoyed glance. "_What?_" I realized he wasn't speaking aloud because that would obviously foil our plans to remain undetected. Just another thing I would have messed up on if I were in control.

I hesitated for a second, my brain scrambling to think of the best way to pose my question. "_Why were you ignoring me earlier?_" I bit my lip, expecting Nameless to either scoff or dismiss my question altogether.

He did neither. "_What_ _are you talking about_." I hated that tone Nameless used so frequently on me, that flat, neutral voice that indicated his boredom with the conversation even before it began.

But I was insistent. "_Right after I was in your soul room._ _When I spoke to you, you wouldn't answer._"

_Now_ Nameless chose to scoff at me. Amusement fleetingly sparked across his face. "_My apologies, Vessel. Did that bother you?_"

I should have known, no matter how I ask him about his unusual silence from earlier, he would take it the wrong way. "_Of course not. It was nice_," I shot back.

"_Then where's the problem?"_ Nameless stealthily moved along the corridors of the ship's lower floors, occasionally pausing to hear the voices again before he made his next turn.

"_There isn't_," I answered. "_It just wasn't like you_."

"_How do __**you**__ know what I'm really like?_" Nameless posed dryly. His tone wasn't wholly malicious; rather, it sounded more rhetorical than anything.

I sighed, glad he couldn't see the steady burning in my cheeks. I did _not_ want him to think this bothered me. Because it didn't.

"_You have no intention of telling me, do you?_"

"_Not_ _at all_."

"_I see_." We both fell into a calculating silence, our attention both focused on the guard and his victim. We—or rather, Nameless—continued to slip down dark hallways until finally we saw the two disappear into a door at the end of a hallway.

Nameless raised an eyebrow. "_Took_ _them long enough_."

I took my place next to Nameless, narrowing my eyes to adjust my vision in the poorly-lit corridors. I tilted my head thoughtfully. "_I wonder what Pegasus is trying to hide…?_"

"_You're asking the wrong question_," Nameless said impatiently, "_It's why he's going through all this trouble at all—what answers he needs that are so top-secret_."

I reluctantly drifted after Nameless as he crept up beside the closed door. I nervously glanced about me, wondering what the chances were that someone would be approaching anytime soon. We were at a dead end, and there would be nowhere to run if we were spotted.

With a surprising carefulness, Nameless placed a hand against the smooth surface of the door, his fingers probing its texture. "_Damn it_," he hissed, "_There's no way we can hear through this_."

"_So now what?_" I said warily. I had a very strong feeling that Nameless had a Plan B.

I was right. It took Nameless less than a second to formulate a solution. I could see that fleeting look of intense thought burning in his eyes, then that explosive spark of revelation.

"_A spirit can go through walls, remember? We're switching control again_." Once more, I had access over my body, and Nameless was back to his spirit form. "_I never thought sharing a body could be so useful_," he said with a devious grin. "_Now stay here and try not to draw attention to yourself_."

"_W-wait, you're not going to be out here with me?_" I demanded, panic seizing my chest, "_What_ _if someone comes?_"

A disapproving frown etched across Nameless' face. "_Your incompetence disturbs me_," he said. "_Just use the ring._"

I glared at him, throwing a hasty gesture at the millennium item around my neck. "_You know I have no idea how to use this thing_."

"_Oh, that's right_," he said mockingly, "_Well in that case, let's just hope nothing happens_."

I exhaled sharply, folding my arms across my chest. Why I even bothered to ask Nameless anything was beyond me.

"_Like I said, just don't attract any attention_," Nameless said simply. He looked relatively unconcerned, his mind diverted to the interrogation being held from within closed walls.

"_Right, I'll try not to be obvious as I linger around a closed door_," I said a bit childishly. To be honest, I was annoyed at how unconcerned the spirit was with my well-being. Nameless ignored my remark as he vanished through the wall leading to the closed-off room. I sighed. I could hear the scraps of the conversation commencing through the door that separated me. Why did I have to stand here while Nameless got to hear the conversation? I didn't want to be left in the dark—as always. On the other hand, I also didn't want to give Nameless an excuse to commend my uncanny degree of incompetence for not following instructions.

However, it was when I heard the word "Yuugi" that I instinctively smashed my ear against the door, suddenly not caring who would see me. I supposed this would count as drawing attention to myself, but Nameless wasn't around to know that, now was he?

Straining to hear, I could tell the interrogator was raising his voice slightly in irritation.

"I said, so you've met Yuugi Mutou?"

I could make out a chuckle. It was sharp, annoying. "Yeah, you could say that."

There was a brief silence, perhaps while the interrogator took notes.

"What is your name?"

"Insector Haga." I frowned at the door. Did I hear that correctly? It was a sort of tragic name that this boy, remarkably, seemed proud of.

"All right Haga, tell me what you know about Yuugi Mutou."

There was yet another laugh, this one sounding sloppier than the last. Unfortunately, this time I couldn't make out Haga's mumbled response. I could feel my eyebrows pinching together in frustration. There was, of course, a way I could hear the entire conversation, but I was commanded against it.

A rebellious part of me refused to silence itself, waving the bait too close: _I just learned how to become a spirit, I should take advantage of it…and Yuugi is somehow involved with Pegasus' scheme, isn't it my duty as a friend to find out what? _

At the same time, there was no way I could materialize next to Nameless without him spotting me. I could just imagine his fearsome response—I shuddered at the thought. But there was still that spark of rebellion, jabbing at my side.

_What's the worst he can do? Throw curses at me, damning me to hell for all of eternity? He already does that. _Looking back, it's remarkable the way I simply glossed over his previous crimes as if he never committed them. I guess some part me still refused to fully acknowledge the true threat Nameless was—maybe the denial was a sort of defense mechanism. I mean, I was bound to him whether I liked it or not. I might as well ignore those details to make my experience slightly less of a nightmare.

In the end, my stubborn side won over, and soon I found myself running down the dark hallway of my mind to materialize as a spirit yet again.

Glancing down at the shell of my body which stood there blankly and alarmingly still, I couldn't believe how odd it looked when there was nobody home. I guess this was what Nameless meant when he said to not draw attention to myself—just looking at what was officially a "vessel" gave me chills.

Turning my attention back to the conversation taking place, I carefully slid through the wall, my eyes scanning to see where Nameless stood. He was only a few paces away, his back to me and his arms folded in the usual manner. His head was cocked slightly in speculation. A quick glance at the side of his face indicated he was amused by what was being said. He paid no attention to me. My shoulders sagged in relief, as I kept my distance from Nameless and lingered directly behind him where he couldn't see me. A quick glance around the room indicated that there was actually a small group of people facing Haga, writing down various things as the boy spoke. The surroundings were remarkably plain, furnished with only wooden chairs, a desk, and a dying lamp light.

"He's a total pushover," Haga drawled, adjusting his glasses, "He actually trusted me to see his rare cards. I mean, who does that? So I threw his Exodia cards over the ship." _What? _I resisted the urge to gasp, incredulous of what I was hearing. He _destroyed _some of Yuugi's cards?

The interrogator cleared his throat. "All right, could you explain to me why you did that again?"

"Umm…can I have a glass of water? I'm really thirsty."

"After you answer the question."

Haga's eyes rolled to the ceiling. "Okay. Well, this Yuugi kid was really getting on my nerves, you know? Acting like he was a saint, and so damn innocent too. '_Oh, of course you can see my cards! I trust everybody! Peace and love!_' I mean, what a moron!'" I noticed his voice went up in pitch, probably in mockery of Yuugi. I bit back an ashamed smile. I mean, it was terrible what this boy did, but I couldn't help but question Yuugi's common sense. I knew that _I _wouldn't trust this person, even with holding a napkin. And where was the spirit of the puzzle during all of this?

"So that was why you threw his cards off the ship?"

There was a noticeable pause. "Well…no. Wow, it's really hot in here, isn't it? Do you guys feel that?" I heard Nameless scoff at the boy's random statement. Well, Haga was technically under the influence, which would explain his general weirdness. On the other hand, I couldn't help but wonder if he was just _always _like that.

"Answer the question, sir," the interrogator said with an edge of impatience, "Why did you really throw away the Exodia cards?"

"Oh, right. I did that because I was afraid he'd beat me in a duel if I encountered him later."

"So you were intimidated."

Haga scratched his head absently. "Uh…yeah. I guess. I don't know. Maybe." I vaguely heard a semi-amused snort from Nameless. He was mostly disgusted though.

"Was there anything else that set you off?"

"You mean that made me nervous?"

"Exactly."

The interviewee broke out into another laugh. It sounded strangled. "Well, between you and me, he doesn't exactly look like a threat, you know? The big eyes, his height…not that height determines how much of a threat a person is…_I'm_ not too tall myself—"

"Please get to the point."

"Oh, right. But there was something about him that I can't really explain, that made me think twice about getting on his bad side…"

"Can you _try_ to explain?"

Haga cast the man a blank stare. "Uh…no, not really. Just that there was more to him than his looks. I don't know."

The interrogator sighed. "All right. We have one more question for you. Did you notice that pendant hanging around the boy's neck?"

The person in question began his odd sequence of chuckles. "How could I not? It was freaking huge! A normal person doesn't carry something like that around for no reason…"

"Right. Now have you seen anyone else carrying around something like it?"

I blanched. So Pegasus was essentially interrogating passengers to see who knew about the millennium items. No, to find out who _owned_ them.

I watched as Haga pursed his lips in thought. He looked like one of those strange tropical blowfish you see in a fish tank at a dentist's office. "Uhhh…no. Not that I know of."

"Okay. Thank you for—"

"No, no, wait!" Haga burst out, nearly rising from his chair. "There was someone who I think had something similar…now what did it look like?"

That was when I began to panic. Did he somehow see me? If Haga brought any attention to the millennium ring, then it would be nearly impossible for me to get through this dueling tournament without being discovered. I saw Nameless lift an eyebrow.

Haga settled back into his seat, his mind reeling back to his clouded memory. "Yeah, it looked like an enormous gold key."

…Huh? In the corner of my eye, I could tell Nameless was confused as well.

Haga nodded his head furiously, as if agreeing with himself. "And he was dressed in these white robes, so he really stood out. I mean, like, who wears that sort of thing on a cruise ship? But when I looked at him again, he was gone."

One of the interviewers, who remained silent up until this point, leaned into the primary questioner's ear. "I think this is where fantasy and reality get mixed up. I doubt this is valid information."

The dominant interviewer shook his head. "Write it down anyway. You never know what could be the truth." He glanced up at Haga. "Is there anything else you would like to add?"

"Not really." Haga's eyes were unfocused now, as he adjusted his glasses. "Can I have some water now?"

"Get him out of here. Bring in the next one."

"Now hold on!" Haga insisted, waving his hands in front of him. When he saw all eyes were on him, he broke out into a fit of giggles. "Wow, look at all you suits, all so serious and demanding. Scarrrry." I clasped a hand over my mouth, stifling the urge to laugh myself. The interrogators were probably regretting bringing _this_ one in. The looks on their faces were priceless—disgust twisted their features, just as it did with Nameless.

"Insector_ Haga_," the primary interviewer spat, enunciating his syllables with extra care, "Was there anything you were about to add that is actually _relevant_?"

Haga's lips curled in a smile. "Well, duh. There was something—"

There was a soft clatter that made my head snap over to the door. Where was that noise coming from? Anxiety began to gnaw at my insides as it occurred to me that it sounded like heavy footsteps coming from the hallway. My head whipped over to Nameless, frantic to see if he heard the noise too. Of course, the only time I needed him to be particularly observant he was not. Nameless was too immersed in the conversation to have his attention ripped away. At the same time, if he did look over, he would have seen me, which of course would guarantee unnecessary chaos. I was potentially in trouble either way.

I hastily backed out of the room, praying I was only hearing things. Upon reentering the hallway though, I quickly confirmed my fears: a large, hulking man who was undoubtedly a "security guard" loomed frighteningly close to my vessel of a body.

A gasp got lodged in my throat as my brain began scrambling for the next course of action. The guard had a firm grip on a stranger's arm, who looked in even worse shape than Haga. He was pretty large too, with bulging biceps and a great, thick neck, which was bulging as well from his protruding veins. The stranger was unleashing a wave of obscenities at the guard, struggling furiously and flapping his arms like an enraged bird to free himself.

"Bastards. I tol' you I didn't steal nothin,'" the stranger slurred, his words lashing out as sloppy punches.

"I didn't say you did," the guard said annoyed, yanking on the man's tattooed arm. "We just have to ask you a few questions."

The man let out a dry chuckle, unleashing the pungent stench of alcohol. "Does it look like I'm fit to answer ya'll?" In an attempt to stabilize himself, one foot crossed in front of the other, accidentally stomping on the guard's shoe.

The guard cursed inaudibly, giving the man a resounding blow on the back of the head. I winced as I watched the stranger fall limp. Now the guard turned his attention to my body. He raised his eyebrows.

"You up next?" he asked doubtfully. In a fit of panic, I reached for my body, slipping back in to regain control. Sparks of anxiety exploded in my stomach as I floundered to get my bearings. The world seemed to be tilting under my feet, all while colorful splotches dotted my vision.

I blinked at the guard. Ugh, I really didn't feel good. Why wasn't I warned going back into my body would be so disorienting?

The guard's frown deepened. "Hel-lo," he said loudly, in that irritating way people do when trying to capture someone's attention. He swiped a hand in front of me. "What, too much to drink? You comatose now?" His frown curled up into a slightly amused sneer.

I barely managed to shake my head, the entire ship shaking with it. I groaned. "N-no," I managed. "I hear you." My palms felt increasingly clammy as I struggled to think of what to say, let alone what to do.

And where _was_ Nameless? Didn't he hear me talking to someone?

The guard straightened his posture, appearing all the more intimidating. "Then answer the question. Are you up next for questioning?"

"Um…" I felt a steady throbbing in my temples as I tried to think of the best response. If I said no, then that would obviously mean I didn't belong down there. But if I said yes, then wouldn't that mean I'd have to go inside that room? Nameless was in there though, so of course he would have to interfere to bail me out. Despite the fact he would mock me for my incompetence for as long I know him, it would definitely be my best option.

"Yes," I said slowly. I nodded my head hastily, as if that would make me more convincing.

The guard tilted his chin, his eyes peering down at me suspiciously. "Really," he said flatly. "Then where's your 'escort'? You wouldn't have been left here by yourself."

Droplets of sweat began to prickle my forehead.

"Well?" he demanded.

On impulse, I bolted past him, sidestepping the stranger who was passed out on the floor. I almost felt relief as I made it out onto the main hallway, but seconds later I felt a harsh tug on my wrist. The grip was like an iron vice, closing around my skin and pushing uncomfortably against my bone. The guard had a firm hold on me, and used it to slam me up against a nearby wall. The world began to spin again and the splotches returned.

"I guess that answers my question," the guard growled. "Who are you? A spy?"

"N-no!" I stammered, fighting back nausea. I squirmed to loosen his grip. "Please let go."

The guard eyed me carefully before his face darkened. "You look sick," he said carefully. "Why don't you take something to calm yourself down." It wasn't a suggestion, I quickly realized. As the guard pulled a syringe from the side of his waistcoat, panic flooded my insides.

I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Especially with that paw of a hand digging into my chest. "What is that thing?" I asked breathlessly, fear strangling my voice. I tried to edge away again.

The heel of the guard's hand pressed harder into me. "Don't worry about the details, kid," he sneered. "You'll feel _good_ after this." It occurred to me then that the mysterious fluid that was about to be injected in me was probably extract of the Henbane plant. Since I already looked suspicious, he most likely wanted to question me too. Especially since I'm one of the few passengers who actually declined drinking anything on the ship—the guard seemed to realize that just by looking at me. My eyes were probably wild, afraid—sober.

Acid seemed to rise in the back of my throat as I watched the guard pull out my arm harshly. As he poised the needle at the inner part of my upper forearm I desperately tried to tug away.

"Wait, wait, this is a _mistake_!" I pleaded frantically. I hated anything to do with needles to begin with, and having this nonmedical monster of a man about to jab something into my skin terrified me.

"Too bad you didn't understand the 'Employees Only' sign bolted outside the main door," the guard grinned. He jerked the needle down.

It was then something strange happened. As I let out a horrified cry and the guard was literally a fragment of a second away from injecting me with the syringe, blinding waves of golden light exploded from the millennium ring, cascading over my body almost in a protective shield and burning the guard as his skin came into contact with it. I watched in disbelieving awe as the guard immediately let go of me, howling as he held his singed hand up. I could barely hear his string of curses among the deafening ringing in my ears.

"You little bastard!" the guard cried, swinging his unharmed hand out at me like a steel mallet. The wall beneath me suffered a ripple of cracks as I flinched away from the blow, the golden light immediately evaporating as if it never existed. My knees suddenly felt weak holding up my weight, fatigue weighing down my body like heavy iron-linked chains.

It was then that I finally—_finally_—heard Nameless' voice. I think I actually felt joy when I heard his familiar edge of arrogance and conviction.

"_I'm taking over. We can't let him remember what he saw or our time here is up_."

I heaved a sigh of relief as darkness temporarily consumed me, my soul drifting back into the crevices of my mind. I was grateful for the release in control. I could no longer feel the deep aching in my muscles, the pain in my wrist, or the throbbing in my temples. Exhaustion still consumed my mind though, increasing in intensity after my close encounter with the guard. And especially after what happened with the millennium ring…whatever _that_ was…

From the safety of my soul room, I watched as Nameless lifted a hand over the guard's head as bolts of light shot from the ring, delving straight into him. Seconds later, the agonized yelling ceased, and the guard was soon sprawled on the floor unconscious.

I heard the interrogation room door thrust open hurriedly. There was a soft clattering of footsteps, and then a hasty, "Hey, this guy's knocked out. Hello? Are you awake, sir? Howard? Keith Howard? Are you awake?" and then another succession of footsteps as a few people wandered down the hall to look for the guard who was missing.

I could feel the deep rumble of laughter in Nameless' chest. "_We made quite a stir, eh, Landlord?_" he mused as he whipped around and bolted down the hallway to make his miraculous escape. It was then we heard collective cries of alarm back where the unconscious guard laid, and demands as to what happened. They would remain unanswered, of course.

Nameless made a swift dash around one corner, weaving in and out of hallways with perfect recollection as to where we came from earlier. I watched for a few more moments as doors and windows flew past in one continuous stream before I turned away from the looking glass. It wasn't even a question whether or not Nameless would make it out onto the ship's deck without detection.

I had every intention of throwing out a somewhat immature "_I told you so_" at Nameless for potentially endangering my body, but suddenly I didn't care. The fatigue that prodded me persistently after the millennium ring's reaction was too strong, riding over any previous urges to demand some answers.

Wordlessly, I trudged over to the shade of the only apple tree in my soul room, towering over all else. The intoxicatingly-sweet scent of ripe apples lingered strongly in the air, mingling seductively with the gentle breeze. It made my eyelids grow even heavier.

My legs instinctively folded under me as I sunk to the ground, my limbs splayed out awkwardly over the piles of fallen leaves. I didn't care.

It only took seconds until the delicious release of sleep washed over me.

* * *

By the time my eyes opened, the sun was quietly burning just below the horizon. I was on deck once more, my body pressed against the railing. I briefly shut my eyes to the sporadic bursts of wind that grazed my face, tousled my hair, and seeped through the knitting in my sweater. The air was much cooler now, but I didn't mind. A fog was beginning to form, its cold stickiness clinging to my skin. I stared up at the timid stars, barely peeking out from the indigo tarp of sky.

My mind began to reel back from a few—was it more than that?—hours ago. I was asleep in my soul room, while Nameless ran about doing God-knows-what. But he had apparently relinquished control to me now, and I vaguely wondered if he grew tired too. Was he sleeping? _Does_ he sleep?

My gaze shifted down to the ring hanging thickly from my neck. "Spirit?"

I felt an agitated stir from within the corners of my mind. "_What, Vessel_."

"So what happened while I was out?"

A sigh hissed through our mind link. "Does it matter? Everything's under control."

I frowned. "That's more or less the attitude you had the last time, and it almost got me killed by that brute of a man."

"_Vessel, you were not going to be __**killed**_," Nameless ground out slowly, as if explaining the difference between night and day to a three-year-old.

"Did you see the _size_ of that guy?" I demanded, waving my hands around frantically. I noticed someone look at me with a mix of concern and alarm, before I mumbled an apology and hastily turned away. I self-consciously folded my arms. "He was about to inject something _into_ me, and you were off listening to some _stupid_ interrogation with some _stupid_ boy," I said quieter this time, despite the venom in my tone. "And you say 'everything is under control.'"

Suddenly Nameless was materialized next to me, his hands carelessly resting on his hips. The look on his face was, as usual, unreadable, although an eyebrow was lifted. "_Are you __**bothered**__ that I left?_"

My entire face flushed, angry heat surging through my body. "Absolutely not!" I nearly shouted, making the few people within earshot to start backing away. For once, I ignored my concern for what other people thought, and was too angry to use the mind link. "I am _bothered _that I was in such _danger_."

"_Oh, Hell, you are such a child_," Nameless scoffed. "_Stop cowering for a second and consider the fact that for as long as I need you, I'm not going to dispose of your body_."

"Touching," I said with a frown, "But what exactly would have happened if you hadn't unleashed that protective barrier in time?"

Nameless' lips spread into a slight grimace before he tilted his head to examine my face. "_That wasn't me_."

And like that, my anger dissipated. "E-excuse me?" I managed.

Nameless glared.

My shoulders slumped. "Well, then who?"

"_I_ _think it's pretty obvious, if you strain your mind a little bit_."

"…Me?"

"_Unless you can come up with another theory…?_"

I began to shake my head. "No way. It definitely couldn't have been me. It's like I said, I don't even know how to use—"

"_It must have been instinctual_," Nameless interrupted, waving his hand dismissively, "_You are far too weak to handle such power. Vessel, you didn't even know what you were doing_."

"I didn't," I agreed. The frown etched into my face deepened. "So in other words, I really _would_ have been in trouble if I didn't manage to use the ring by some sort of freak chance."

"_But nothing happened_," Nameless pointed out, "_and that's all the difference_."

We fell silent for a few moments, my mind whirring and Nameless standing there irritably, perhaps already aware I wasn't finished yet. I wasn't.

"Well, you _did_ advise me to use the ring if I was in trouble," I finally said, thoughtfully.

A noise emitted from Nameless' throat, sounding like a strange mix between a scoff and a growl. "_Vessel, I wasn't being __**serious**_. _You merely attempting to use such power is like allowing a mental patient access to a gun._"

On impulse, I wanted to yell, "_Then what was I supposed to do? __**You**__ weren't there to help me_," but stopped myself. I allowed my gaze to drift over the spirit of the ring, really looking at him. His posture may have appeared defiant, but his shoulders were tense. The hands on either side of his hips were tightly clamped on, digging into the fabric of his transparent jeans. And even though his face was generally smoothed over as a mask, there seemed to be a strain around his eyes. Nor would he look at me directly, his attention flitting from everything but me. He _almost_ reminded me of an agitated cat.

_He knew he made a mistake._

I couldn't believe it.

Should I call him out on it? No, that would probably cause a lot of unnecessary chaos. I knew he would never admit to making a wrong decision. Truthfully though, it scared me that I was a hair of a second away from being at the mercy of that security guard. Reluctantly, I decided to let it go.

"Spirit."

Nameless barely turned his head. "_What._"

"So it's getting late, and I can't help but wonder…do I honestly have to sleep out here?" I gestured to the deck with a brief sweep of my hand, noting with horror that I'd probably be lucky if I snatched even an hour of quality sleep.

"_I don't see where else, Vessel_."

A thought occurred to me. "How does that not look suspicious? A boy with unnatural white hair is sleeping on the deck floor. No, I could be passed out for all they know!"

"_You are such a mouthy brat_," Nameless scowled. "_Do you ever shut up?_"

"No, seriously," I insisted, "There's no way that would work."

"_Then_ _**don't **__sleep_," Nameless replied tersely. His attention was quickly waning from the conversation, as it tends to when it doesn't directly concern him.

"But—"

"_Hey, move. Now_." Nameless had disappeared back in the ring, his voice lashing out harshly instead. The abrupt change in his tone compelled me to straighten up and start walking. I wasn't sure where, but I knew better than to ask until it was safe to. Or glance back. A couple seconds of an anxious quiet rolled by before I spoke up. "Do you mind telling me why I had to leave my spot?"

"_A couple of your friends have just spotted you_."

I began to turn my head in interest. "Oh, really? Where are—"

"_No, don't look back, Vessel, you moron!_" Nameless hissed in panic.

"_Well, what did you expect me to do?_" I huffed. I swear I would never understand what he wanted from me.

There was a low growl. "_Listen. Looking back draws attention to you. Plus there are security guards close by, which makes you look suspicious_."

I frowned. "I understand why I have to stay out of the guards' way, but why do I need to hide from the people I know?" He only gave me a vague explanation as to why I should be hiding from my friends. Would it really be that suspicious if they knew I was invited in the tournament?

…Well, maybe.

"_Remember, your 'friends_,'"—I could envision Nameless needlessly curling his index and middle fingers to put that particular word in quotes here—"_Don't know I'm still an active force. But if they see you, they might take the hint. I need you to be inconspicuous for a while until it isn't likely they could get us off the island. Being on this ship would be too easy for them to alert security._"

"I'm pretty certain that Anzu and Honda don't belong here, either," I commented. "So I doubt they would say anything about that." And I'd like to think they would recognize me as my own person, not some attachment to Nameless. Maybe they would let me stick around and see me as a part of their own group…? I mean it wasn't like I endorsed anything Nameless did personally.

"_I refuse to take chances with this sort of thing_," Nameless replied briskly. I had a retort involving his willingness to take a chance with my safety earlier, but held my tongue.

"_Now keep walking_," he demanded. "_Currently, there seems to be security checking for proof of invitation. Now that I think of it, that's probably why I saw that girl and one of Yuugi's body guards cramming themselves into the very same storage closet I put you in…_"

"Anzu and Honda," I corrected defensively. I looked over my shoulder tentatively. Sure enough, two men in uniform were asking people at random for their star chip and mock Duel Monsters card for proof of their welcome. I slowly turned away and continued walking, trying to keep my pace casual.

"Am I going to have to play this game all night?" I sighed. "Hiding from security?"

"_Well, if you'd rather perceive it as a game, then great_," Nameless stated wryly. "_But you've pretty much said it_."

I frowned. "I _would_ like to sleep at some point." Despite my nap earlier, I was still feeling exhausted. How did he expect me to stay up the whole night?

Nameless didn't bother to say anything, while I kept walking, brooding to myself. A few minutes passed, and neither of us spoke.

Finally, much to my surprise, I heard Nameless' voice once more.

"_I have an idea_."

* * *

There was a commotion down one end of a hallway. On this particular side of the ship's lower floors, most of the rooms were closed off, containing passengers resting before the tournament. Here, however, bubbles of scornful laughter echoed down the hall, grabbing my attention. I could immediately tell that, standing triumphantly a short distance away, was Mai, directing her taunts at the man whom she placed bets with earlier. Somehow I wasn't surprised.

"_Bon voyage_, loser," Mai said, intermingled with a chuckle as she shoved Ryuzaki out of the room that used to be his. Jettisoning soon after him were his belongings. "I can't say I'm surprised it ended up this way, but hey, I did warn you."

"Mai, wait, at least give me another—"

"Nope! A deal's a deal, and I thank you heartily for your room. Or, I should say, _my_ room now. _Ciao_!"

"Mai—"

"_Sayonara_!"

Ryuzaki heaved a frustrated sigh as he snatched up his things. He shot Mai the nastiest look he could muster. "Bitch," he hissed as he began walking away. He gave me a suspicious once-over as he passed me, not bothering to deviate from his straight path and slightly shoving me as he moved down the hallway.

"That's how you survive in this world," Mai called after her latest reject. Her eye caught mine as she leaned out her newly-won room and winked at me. "Right, sugar?"

I jumped, not expecting her to acknowledge me. But a smile crept across my face anyway.

I gave a single nod. "If you say so."

A grin was still painted on her lips before she disappeared into her new room, casually kicking the door shut with her foot. Quiet reigned over the halls once more.

I continued to wander down the hall, my eyes roaming from closed door to closed door. "So what's your plan?" I finally asked Nameless. He wouldn't have asked me to walk around for no reason.

"_Isn't it obvious? We're getting ourselves a room_."

I blinked. "Oh, you mean win one like how Mai did?"

Right at that moment, one of the doorknobs rattled before the door burst open. Strolling out into the hall, much to my surprise, was the boy I had seen from earlier during the interrogation—Haga. He seemed much more rational now, a dopey smile no longer plastered on, but still had the air of someone who had an over-inflated ego. As he passed me, his eyes scanned me suspiciously.

I heard Nameless _tsk_ at me. "_Now Vessel, who honestly has time to get a room the fair way…?_" His presence in my body began to resurface, and suddenly, I realized with horror what he was about to do.

"Spirit, _Spirit_, what are you—!"

In less than a second, Nameless switched control with me and was now turned to face Haga.

"Hey," he said loudly, his voice ringing out as a gunshot in the silence. He easily reached out and snatched the boy by the edge of his jacket, pulling hard to get his attention.

Haga froze before whirling around to look at Nameless. "What's your problem?" he asked moodily.

"You have something that I want," Nameless replied indifferently. He broke out into a sneer. "Don't take it personal." He lifted a hand over Haga, and despite my futile cries of protest, blasted the boy with the golden light emanating from the ring. Haga was knocked out before I even had the chance to tell Nameless to stop.

I stared in mystified awe at the unconscious boy who was now sprawled out on the floor. His glasses were knocked a few feet away from the blast.

"_What did you __**do**__?_" I gasped. Nameless just laughed in response, flipping through Haga's wallet and pocketing our new room key.

And so, just like that, thanks to the ring's power to apparently tamper with a person's memory, I was granted a room for the night within the span of a minute. No duels, bets, or invitations required.

I couldn't say I was proud…

But…

I couldn't say I didn't want it, either.

"You're welcome," Nameless sneered.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter took forever-and-a-half to write, so a review would be oh-so-fantastic :] **


	16. The Darkness In My Heart

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot—will not—let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I was working on a bunch of one-shots, and even another multi-fic story which I haven't posted…yet. And for the record, summer classes suck.

And notice that Ryou's dreams have switched from third-person limited to third-person omniscient. That's merely to reveal more and more information in this partial side-story we get through Ryou's dreams.

Chapter Sixteen- The Darkness In My Heart

"_Your grandparents are greatly looking forward to seeing you, you know." _

_The boy didn't bother to say anything in reply, only giving the room a quick glance as he tentatively walked in. He came to loathe the very room he was standing in, his father's study. _

"_Shut the door behind you." With deliberate care, the boy obeyed. _

_The father took a brisk gulp from his glass before slamming it down. "Don't look so solemn. When you see your grandparents tomorrow morning, I want you to act like you actually want to be there. They've gone through great lengths to prepare for you and your sister's arrival." Was this supposed to convince the boy to view his departure in even a slightly less hostile way? It wasn't working. _

_Standing completely still with perfect posture, the boy waited for the real reason he was summoned once more to his father's study. Whenever he was brought in, it was never good news. _

"_I understand that you've been putting ideas in your sister's head. Telling her lies. Even she's been coming to me, begging me to reconsider." The father's gaze caught on a picture frame on his desk, one of his deceased wife. It was a simple, faded picture of only this woman in her favorite sundress, the sunlight behind her making her skin glow. Her flowing blond hair was disheveled from the wind and she looked caught off-guard from the picture, but she still appeared happy. The father's fingers slowly grazed over the surface, almost hesitantly. His frown deepened as he pulled away. "I know better. Amane is a complacent girl and you're telling her to question me."_

_The boy eyed the picture frame as well, but still said nothing. _

"_As I've said, your grandparents have been anticipating you for a long time. This is something to look forward to." What a miserably disguised lie that was. He desperately wanted to get rid of the boy and his sister. Ever since his wife died, he fell into an inescapable pit of grief, barely able to function through life. Perhaps looking at his children was a daily reminder of the responsibilities he was avoiding. But this was only the boy's guess. _

"_Therefore, it's your job to make sure you don't scare your sister with that wild imagination of yours," the father continued. No, he was wrong. The boy had every right to be afraid. He had never seen his grandparents before, and now all of a sudden they planned on keeping him and Amane for at least a year? What motivation could they possibly have? He was only looking out for Amane when he told her his theories. _

_The father ripped his gaze from the picture frame, thrusting it face-down on the desk. "Say something, boy." _

_The child paused only briefly before meeting his father's eyes. _

"_I will never forgive you," he finally said, his small voice sharp, "if you forget about us."_

_The father stopped midway of taking a sip from his glass._

"_If you don't want me, at least keep Amane. She'll be happier here." There, he said it. If it would take sacrificing himself, at least Amane could escape from whatever their grandparents were planning. But on the other hand, did he really want his little sister to be stuck with a drunk for a father? It frightened him to think that maybe that was the lesser of the two evils. _

"_You do realize," the father said, "That acting this way won't change anything. You're making something out of nothing, boy. Thinking that anything 'bad' is going to happen to you is ridiculous. You've always been so paranoid." Instead of looking at his son, he peered into his glass. The man suddenly scoffed, laughing to an internal, humorless joke. "Just like your mother—well, I suppose she had a right to be." His bottom lip trembled for a fleeting second, but the boy caught it. _

_A considerable amount of time ticked by in an eerie stillness after this, occasionally disturbed by the clinking of ice cubes as the glass tilted. Finally, relenting a bit, he said, "I'll come back for you two. Like I said, it'll only be for a little bit." This was another lie, of course. The truth was only a luxury he couldn't afford. _

_The boy dared to take one step closer. "Please. Amane—"_

"_That's final. I'm not changing my mind," the man snapped. He looked angry now._

_The boy wouldn't give up. "I just—"_

"_Ryou, be __**quiet**__." _

"_But—"_

"_Enough!" Suddenly, the boy found himself wincing at the glass that was hurled at him, barely missing his temple, whizzing past to meet with the wall in an explosive shatter. He watched in a mild state of shock as shards of glass skyrocketed out and finally to the floor, all in a matter of a few seconds. His heart was racing, yet he couldn't bring himself to react as he knew he should have—running. Slowly, he turned back toward his father. _

"_Why are you doing this?" He wasn't sure if he was referring to the outburst or the threat that lingered barely a day away. _

_But the man only leaned back in his chair, as if he hadn't just tried to harm him, to tilt his head sloppily towards the ceiling while closing his eyes. He said nothing in response, finished with the conversation. _

_The boy gazed at his father silently for a moment. He finally realized, there was nothing he could say that would save either him or his sister. His father was a wreck, and his grandparents were likely no better. Perhaps more malicious, who knew? It didn't matter. In the end, he and Amane were destined for a doomed life. Normalcy was no longer an option. _

_His mind couldn't help fretting over the next day, though. It wasn't just a simple, normal visit, he just knew it. As the boy's grandmother said in the letter, she wanted to get them checked out at what was politely labeled a "mental health facility." The boy had no idea what exactly that entailed, and that terrified him. _

_But one thing was certain. To put Amane through something like this…it was unforgivable. She was just a little girl. Nothing was "wrong" with her, and yet she was at the mercy of whatever the doctors saw fit. What bothered him more than anything was that there was nothing he could do about it. His father robbed from him the one thing he felt defined his worth—the ability to protect his sister. And now he was useless. _

_Wordlessly, he backed out of the room. As he shot his father a final look, there was a strange feeling that had pitted itself in the core of his stomach, something that nauseated him while causing fiery emotion to pump through his veins. _

_Hatred. _

_It was right when he was about to head down the hallway that he heard his father. _

"_I just…I just can't handle dealing with you both right now." It was probably another sickening excuse. Or maybe he had no idea the boy could hear him. If anything, he was probably too drunk to care about what poured out of his mouth. _

"_I'm sorry Ryou, oh God, I'm so sorry."_

_There was then a muffled sound oozing from the room, almost like the man was being strangled. _

_But the boy knew better. He was crying. _

_With a perfectly blank expression, the boy continued walking._

* * *

"_There's_ _some sort of breakfast line or whatever on the other side of the ship_," Nameless said the second he was aware of my consciousness. "_Be sure to fill up on everything. You'll need something more substantial than a weightless piece of fruit. As I've always said, we can't be sure when your next meal will be._" He impatiently crossed the room from my bedside to the door. "_There's a lot to choose from, at least from what I saw_." With a jerk of his head he turned away. "_Now let's go_."

I stared at him foggily for an extended moment of silence, still trying to absorb the first half of what he was saying. I eyed the clock warily. "…You understand how early it is, right?" I mumbled. "I mean, there's really no need to head over at _six_ in the morning when they're probably serving breakfast until…I don't know, until much later." I closed my eyes once more, barely conjuring enough strength to ponder if I could get away with sleeping for even ten more minutes.

Nameless didn't seem too happy about this, stalking back over to me to loom threateningly above my bed. "_Doesn't matter. As I've said many times before, I don't want your circus of friends seeing you_." I opened my eyes just in time to see his scowl transforming into the slightest smirk. "_And I happen to know that they __**will **__be sleeping in today._"

I turned away from him to bury my face in my pillow. "As they should. Sleeping is just as important as eating." But the odd, patient silence that followed my statement made me horribly suspicious. I rolled back over to face the spirit. "How…how exactly do you know that?"

Nameless lifted an eyebrow. "_Don't look at me like __**I**__ did anything. They were all oblivious to the drug in their drinks. Hence they're now sleeping it off._" He began to laugh, wickedly amused. "_Heh, you should have really seen—_"

"Did any of them get an interrogation?" I demanded, suddenly concerned. "There's no way any of them would get out of it without revealing any important information."

"_That's what I was getting at_," Nameless said, annoyed. "_The other Yuugi came out, and—"_

"Wait, the other Yuugi?" I was sitting up now.

"_Stop interrupting me!_" the spirit hissed. "_Yes. The other Yuugi. And for a large portion of the night, he had to keep his friends out of security's way. I think he had to resign to using his puzzle a few times. I bet he's __**exhausted**__ by now._" Nameless once more began laughing, way too entertained by the thought. "_Having to actually do some real work for once. Shame_."

"I hope he's okay," I fretted. How despicable that Pegasus had to resort to drugging everyone on the ship, and my friends had to pay for it. That the _other Yuugi_ had to pay for it. And all for what, a few answers? By some odd change in fortune, Nameless somehow was able to identify the threat before I fell victim to it as well.

Nameless' look of amusement quickly melted away. "_Who cares. My only regret is that he __**didn't**__ get caught. Now will you get up already?_" Before I could think of a retort, he vanished back in the ring.

I wallowed in the early-morning stillness for a few moments longer, vaguely wondering why Nameless really despised the spirit of the puzzle so much. I didn't care enough to ask, simply assuming that he just hated everyone. But at the same time, there did seem to be an unusually high degree of hostility towards the other Yuugi. Maybe if Nameless was bored enough to talk I'd ask him.

Groaning, I finally swung my legs over the bed, noting how sore they felt. What on earth did Nameless _do_ while I slept? It was a question I would always continue to ponder, yet I had a feeling that last night he was really taking advantage of my unconsciousness. Apparently he was spying on my group of friends for a considerable period of time, checking out the dining services, probably stealing some random object I'd find in my book bag days later…and who knew what else.

A few lazy minutes later slipping on clothes and cleaning myself up in the joined bathroom (I couldn't believe everyone had such lavish rooms!), I was walking down the darkened hallway without an apparent sense of direction. All Nameless said was that the buffet was on the "other side of the ship," which was entirely too vague on its own terms, yet I was too disinterested to ask. I'd find out eventually.

Glancing out the round ship windows as I passed them, I couldn't help but notice how the days were growing increasingly shorter. It was the middle of autumn and the weather was certainly cooler as well. I desperately hoped that Pegasus had rooming accommodations for the participants in the tournament, just as he did on the ship. Surely he wouldn't allow people to simply camp outside in the chilling weather.

On the way down the long stretch of hallway, I noticed a vast lobby that resided to my left. Peering in, I wondered if it was as nice as my room was. I couldn't get over how extravagant my room (well, Haga's room) had been for a privately-owned cruise ship. But a quick once-over gave me reason to pause—there were many people who were crammed in there, mostly sleeping and sprawled about couches and even the floor. My discreet glance turned into blatant staring.

Nameless appeared beside me. "_Yes, if you haven't noticed already, not everyone was granted a room. Only the dueling champions of specific tournaments were given such a luxury_."

I turned to face him. "You mean everyone else has to sleep _here_?"

"_Of course. You think Pegasus is really that generous?_" Nameless shook his head, his mind caught on something. "_Rich people never are, Landlord_."

I couldn't believe it. Pegasus would really have the nerve to invite people over to his island, yet deny most his guests a room on his cruise ship? What sort of host was he? I slowly began to see the correlation. "So if Pegasus didn't give people rooms on the ship, he's not likely to on his island, either."

"_Don't look too surprised. This is the same man who drugged his passengers as well_." Nameless considered his words before adding, "_And it's not like this is some sort of vacation. It's a competition, one where he's obviously trying to weed the weaker ones out immediately_."

"Even still." I gave the lobby one final sweep with my eyes before spotting Yuugi, Jounouchi, Anzu, and Honda. They looked _out._ "I hope they're all right," I frowned.

Nameless knew whom I was referring to without glancing over. "_They're still here, aren't they?_" he replied. "_Now let's get moving. You get distracted too easily_."

"Why don't you take over then, if you're so sure what we're doing," I grumbled. Nevertheless, I continued walking again.

"_Is that a request?_" Nameless quipped. "_I'd be happy to oblige_."

"No," I replied stiffly. After a pause, I said, "And in any case, even if you did take over, I'd bother you just as you're doing now."

"_Never_ _forget whose doing the terrorizing here_," Nameless replied, unfazed. Then he was drifting directly in front of me, crossing his arms. "_Which reminds me, tell me exactly how you were able to get out of your soul room to materialize as a spirit_."

I blinked, slightly confused. "The door had opened by itself."

Nameless' eyes narrowed. "_Don't lie to me. That wouldn't have been possible._" A frown etched deeper into his face. "_I made sure of it_."

I dragged my mind back to the one moment I had walked out of my soul room. Then it hit me. "Well, I'm not exactly lying," I told him. "Although I did hear footsteps outside, and the next thing I know, the doorknob had twisted on its own and pushed open. As if someone else had done it."

The reply was sharp and immediate. "_Are you sure? That's __**exactly **__how it happened?_"

"Well, yes." My confusion increased when I saw how intensely Nameless was considering this. What was bothering him so much? "I mean," I amended, "it could have easily been—"

"_Did you see anything unusual?_" He drew in closer. "_Did you see __**anyone**__?_"

"No…" I supposed now wouldn't have been an ideal time to tell him I had left my soul room door open. Regardless, his question seemed a little absurd to me. "Who else would be in my body besides us?" Well, in theory, I guess there was _one_ other person…

Nameless seared me with a long, hard stare. Somewhat nervously, I sidestepped him and continued to walk down the hall. It was nearing the end now, and I could see a sign that read, "Dining." Nameless trailed after me. "_You're hiding something_," he declared.

I kept my gaze straight ahead and my voice level. "Not anything of importance." Seriously, what was the big deal? I would have known if something was wrong.

Nameless' response was really strange. "_If there is anything that you suspect that isn't right, you need to tell me_." Once more, he was standing in my way. I stopped. "_Look at me, Landlord. You __**will**__ tell me_."

What was wrong with him today? Was he just being paranoid? To get him to stop harassing me, I gave a curt nod. "Yes, I hear you."

Nameless growled. "_Hearing and listening are two different things_." He shook his head. "_You think you can act however you please when really, it does nothing but display your sheer stupidity_."

"Oh, so you believe you're entitled?" I demanded. At this point I had already made it inside of the small cafeteria-style room. Nameless didn't bother to answer me, opting to disappear back inside the ring once we were in the presence of people. There were a few workers who were replacing a few food trays and filling up coffee urns, but generally there weren't any duelists. There might have been one sitting in the corner of the room breathing in his coffee, but he looked too dead to notice me.

The rich smell of food wafted heavily in the air, yet it didn't particularly appeal to my senses. It was far too early in the morning for me to work up an appetite, yet I knew that Nameless would start acting up if I failed to do as I was told. I made my way over to the breakfast line and took a plate.

"_Get that_," Nameless piped up as I was just about to skip over the sausage in favor of pancakes. I frowned down at the ring. I did know, however, it was useless to argue over what to eat so piled a few sausage links on my plate grudgingly.

"_Am I to assume to just get one of everything?_" I wryly asked, shoveling a spoonful of eggs onto my rapidly-growing mound of food.

"_Heh. Pretty much_," was the reply.

By the time I made my way over to an empty table to sit at, I was balancing a couple plates in each hand. I ignored the baffled looks from the wait staff. I carefully set down my plates, eyeing the frightening display in front of me. "_This is beyond ridiculous_," I managed with a gulp.

"_Believe it or not, you'll be thanking me by the end of this tournament. Everyone will be whining about hunger while you will be perfectly fine_."

"_Right_," I answered, "_because we're both so sure that Pegasus will try to starve us_."

"_Just pick up the fork and __**shut up**_."

I almost would have laughed at that one if I didn't actually need to immerse myself in this revolting act of gluttony. In the end, I obediently ate away, all the while continuing to brush off the looks of shock and mild disgust as the wait staff removed plate after plate.

I could only hope that I'd be able to walk after this.

* * *

_~An Innumerable Amount of Calories Later~_

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"_It wasn't so bad._"

"Says you. But really, I honestly think I'm going to—"

"_**No**__. You must keep it all in. We need every bite you just ate_."

"Ugh, I'd take starvation any day over this."

"_Stop_ _complaining. I'm done talking to you_."

"Good. I don't need another reason to want to vomit." Thus went the conversation right after consuming my overly-indulgent breakfast. Never in my life had I eaten so much, nor did I plan on doing so again. I seriously resented the spirit of the ring for insisting that I eat all that I did, yet somewhat unwillingly I knew that it wasn't without cause. His theory that Pegasus would be as unaccommodating as possible during the tournament was likely correct. After all, forcing most of the participants to sleep in the lobby spoke volumes. I was really beginning to dread what awaited me during the competition. If Pegasus was serious about "weeding" people out, as Nameless put it…

"So what now?" I wondered aloud. I had a feeling Nameless wouldn't bother to answer me, as if to say in his silence, "Figure it out." I supposed that my best option was to retreat back to my room and wait until the ship arrived at its destination.

"Excuse me, do you know when we'll make it to the island?" I asked a nearby employee as I was heading out of the dining area.

The man eyed me critically. I was the same person who had just consumed a mountain of food, after all. "In a couple hours," he replied slowly. I nodded my head with as much dignity as I could muster before exiting. I was glad to be out of there.

The sun was up by now. It filtered in through the windows, casting long streaks of light across the wooden floor. I could see that fortunately, it was going to be another beautiful day. I suddenly had the urge to head up to the deck, just to get some fresh air. Maybe it would make me feel better, if only slightly. Ignoring the cramps in my stomach, I trudged over to the nearby stairwell and made my way out.

The sobering morning air immediately rushed to greet me as I entered the top floor of the ship. I let out a long exhale, relieved to be out of the stifling confines of the hallway. If I had any intention of going back to my room to nap off the food, it would have to wait. I walked a few paces out towards the railing and draped my arms over it to steady myself. I looked out towards the rising sun, watching the way its light made the water shimmer in blinding bursts of light.

I began to wonder about Nameless' paranoia towards my soul room door opening. He wasn't normally one to waste his energy on such details, especially ones pertaining to me, yet oddly enough, he seemed to want to know everything. I remembered the way his face searched mine, perhaps attempting to mask his unease while scraping up what details he could. Naturally, his reaction gave me reason to second-guess my previous indifference. If there was even the smallest chance for disaster, it would certainly find me.

A firm hand on my shoulder made me jump so abruptly I had to grab onto the railing from tipping over. A gasp lodged itself in my throat.

"My apologies for disturbing you," a man said in an even tone the instant I whipped around. He didn't look sorry.

"Can I help you?" I managed. I placed a hand over my heart to steady it. It was then that I noticed how strange this man looked. His attire could hardly pass for being from this time. Clothed in a long, ivory robe and turban adorned with hulking pieces of gold jewelry, he stood out sharply against the other passengers. But then again, there was no one on deck for me to compare him to.

His heavily-rimmed eyes seared into mine. "My name's Shadi." He paused only slightly before cutting straight to his purpose. "I'm the protector of the millennium items."

I could sense Nameless' unrest the second these words were spoken. Under normal circumstances, he would have probably taken over at this point, yet this time he didn't. Regardless, I knew he was listening intently.

I slowly shook my head, panic overwhelming my senses. I wanted to run, yet felt paralyzed in my spot. It was still hard for me to absorb that there were other people who knew about the items. "Is it my ring you want?" I asked quietly, instinctively gripping onto its cold metal. There was a distinct tremor in my voice as I spoke. I wasn't quite sure why I felt afraid, seeing that this man didn't appear as a threat on the surface. Rather, I _felt_ that he was.

Shadi took a step back to allow me room to calm down. "I do not desire your ring, no. I'm here to give you a warning." A warning? From what? What disturbed me the most at the moment was that this man knew enough about my life to be issuing a warning in the first place. A million questions were flooding my mind, yet I kept my lips tightly pressed together.

Wordlessly, Shadi held out his palm. A faint outline of some sort of bulky object appeared, rapidly becoming more tangible until I could see it was a scale. My eyes widened in shock, aghast at how this person was able to make an object appear out of thin air.

"This is the millennium scale, one of seven millennium items," Shadi said in his unnervingly even voice. So there were seven of them. I was too transfixed to begin wondering where the others were. "I am here to inform you that you are starting to tread a very dangerous path, Ryou."

A sound of surprise and annoyance emerged in the back of my throat. The fact that he knew my name was alarming, but I suppose when the millennium items are involved, I shouldn't have been surprised. I had no idea what powers were granted to each item—perhaps mind reading was this one's. It did bother me though, that he felt he had the right to address me by my first name. That all aside, the notion that he somehow knew about my future froze my entire body in fear.

"What could you possibly know about me?" I said, so quietly it came as a whisper.

He stared at me with his blank eyes. "You, I know everything. You are one of the factors to the outcome of Pharaoh's destiny, and it is my job to ensure events play out as they should." My head was spinning so fast from this assault of words I didn't know what to say.

"'Pharaoh'?" I repeated lamely. "Who—"

I was cut off when he thrust the millennium scale at my chest. "This weighs the darkness in your heart," Shadi murmured. "Your sins." I suddenly felt very cold, as if icy fingers had swept through my brain to claw out memories. In an instant, the scale began trembling, then visibly shaking, until one side of the scale dipped so abruptly it fell out of Shadi's hand in an explosive clatter. I could only stare with wide eyes.

Slowly, Shadi reached down and picked up the scale, watching me the whole time. "There is an irrevocable evil inside you."

This came to me as a sharp slap to the face. No, a head-on assault. I began to shake my head. "There is also a spirit inside me, the one from the ring. He's the evil one, not me."

Shadi didn't appear fazed in the slightest. "I was looking into _your_ soul, Ryou."

At that moment, my heart swelled with a mixture of things—disbelief, frustration, mostly pain. Me, _evil_? What could I have done that would make the scale tip over so badly?

"How could you possibly know what I'm like?" I said, injured. "I never saw you a day in my life…" I stopped, too overcome with emotion to speak. I bit my lip hard.

"Boy, this isn't your fault. It's only natural that your soul becomes corrupted after certain influences of wayward spirits."

"I'm not a 'boy,'" I snapped rather viciously. I hated being referred to as that. It reminded me of my father, who addressed me as one after being particularly annoyed.

Shadi shook his head. "I did not come here to upset you. I wanted to inform you that you are in the midst of a perilous balancing act, one side representing good, and the other evil. You're about to fall, Ryou, and I know on which side."

"What are you even talking about?" I demanded, although my voice lacked any force. "I know exactly where I stand, and believe me, it has nothing…_nothing_ to do with _evil_." I was growing increasingly upset, and struggled to keep myself composed. It was Shadi's unwavering collectedness that shook me the most. As if he were pointing a finger, condemning me to hell without batting an eye.

"_Landlord, calm down_," Nameless finally said. He chuckled quietly. "_This man is nobody. He rarely knows what he's talking about._"

"_You've __**met**__ him before?_" I thought back.

"_You could say that_." There was a secretive smile in his voice. I turned my attention back to Shadi, who was watching me intently.

"This spirit inside you…how do you feel about him?"

I flinched. It was a question I was never asked before, and had never given it much thought. But then again, not many people knew about Nameless in the first place.

"I hate him," I flatly replied. "Naturally." Oddly enough, the words didn't sound natural as they came out of my mouth. I frowned.

"Hate is a powerful word," Shadi said, his gaze now on the millennium scale.

"It is," I alleged, "But I have plenty of reason to feel this way. If you know 'everything' about my life as you claim"—I still didn't believe him, to be honest—"then you'd be aware of all the horrible things this spirit has done."

"It's interesting," Shadi murmured, ironically lacking any interest in his voice, "but the scale isn't in conjunction with your words." In other words, he was calling me a liar.

"I know how I feel," I said bluntly, facing him directly, "And I'm telling you the truth. He is the evil spirit, not me, and I hate him." It sounded harsh even to my ears, but he had to know. To suggest I felt otherwise was absolutely ridiculous.

"As you say," Shadi said, almost dismissively. The scale vanished from his palm. "But remember what I have told you: as a factor in the Pharaoh's destiny, any deviation from fate could ruin everything."

He needed to stop being so cryptic. How did he expect me to understand him if he was speaking such nonsense? What was all this talk about a Pharaoh?

I turned away from Shadi to stare out at sea. "I think you're giving me too much credit. Anything that I do or decide doesn't matter." I absentmindedly brushed my hand over the ring. "None of it does." I knew that whatever Nameless chose to do, I couldn't stop him. It almost hurt to admit, but my struggle against the spirit felt so futile at times I often wondered if I could do anything of use. Which also made me think, if I had intentions of stopping Nameless in the first place, how could I possibly have the evil in my heart that Shadi claimed I did? A large part of me refused to believe him. But another part, a much smaller one, was absolutely terrified, almost hysterical, that Shadi might have been right.

Maybe I could ask Shadi to look inside my heart again. The scale could have somehow been looking at Nameless, or—

I blinked back surprise when I turned my head to see the man was gone. "Shadi…?" There was nothing but the wind that murmured in reply. Did he somehow disappear? But that wouldn't have been possible, unless…

"_So you hate me, huh?_" Nameless had appeared beside me, his arms folded in their usual manner.

"Does this come as a surprise to you?" I returned dully, still disheartened that I couldn't ask Shadi to reevaluate my sins.

"_No, it doesn't_." Nameless broke out into a pleased smile. "_I'm sort of relieved, actually_."

In spite of myself, I laughed at this. It felt odd, to be laughing, but I was too entertained by the fact that only Nameless would be the one to seek out hatred and relish in it.

Nameless frowned. "_I wasn't being funny_."

"I know." We stood there in silence for a brief period of time, not feeling the need to speak, until I glanced over at him. "Spirit."

"_Hm_."

"Am I…" I hesitated, tightening my grip on the railing, "am I evil?"

The spirit shot me an amused expression. "_I don't know. Are you?_"

"I'm asking you."

"_Well, you're a wimp_," Nameless started, and despite the dirty look I gave him, he continued, "_and a crybaby, and sort of too feminine for your own good_"—now I was really glaring at him—"_yet the combination of all these things doesn't strike me as evil. No, definitely not._" He scoffed, as if tossing an idea around in his mind. "_You know, people can't be labeled strictly as 'good' or 'bad' as easily as one can distinguish between black and white_." He glared at the water. "_That's why Shadi's an idiot; always has been_. _It's not that simple. You could kill countless of people, but maybe it was because you were defending yourself. Or anyone you care about. Still, that could easily be seen as evil._" His eyes narrowed. "_At the same time, there could be a group of people—let's assume they're a lot wealthier and have more power—who could destroy an entire village because they thought it would be for the best and would be considered heroes. Somehow, they're considered 'good,' depending on whose perspective it is._" He was clenching his jaw now, the muscles in his neck straining. "_So_ _who the hell knows anything about what defines the evil in one's heart_."

All I could do was stare at him. As blatantly as I'd ever dared. He had never spoken so much to me the entire time I knew him, let alone spew out something as thought-provoking as this. But no, it was more than that. His examples were far too specific to have been randomly tossed out for the sake of accentuating his point. Was this an important, huge part to the spirit's past that I thought I would never get to know? I was suddenly intrigued, overwhelmingly curious. If my theory was correct, what else was there that had happened to him before he became trapped in the ring?

"Spirit…" I began. Nameless took one look at the expression on my face and immediately recoiled. Abruptly he had snapped out of his odd mood and glared at me.

"_**What**__, Vessel? Why the hell are you staring at me like that?_" He bristled with anger. "_I can't tell you a damn thing without you taking it the wrong way._" It was weird, seeing him so visibly uncomfortable, so I opted out of pressing the subject. He would only close up more if I even thought of it. Besides, in his own twisted way, his point on a person's 'goodness' actually consoled me a bit. I guess for that, I at least should have spared him of a potentially awkward moment.

"Hmm…" I seamlessly began to switch topics, "I was thinking that I like when you call me 'Landlord,' better. It sounds less harsh. 'Vessel' is such an ugly word."

"_As if you get a choice in what I choose to call you_," the spirit said bitterly. "_Vessel_." Still, he took the bait and we moved on as if we had never had that odd conversation seconds ago.

"So where did you get this 'Landlord' term from?" I asked. "It's definitely new."

"_No, it's not_," Nameless said, "_I've always considered your body as 'renting out space.' I simply grew tired of calling you the same thing over and over_."

"Yes, until you abuse 'Landlord," I replied dismissively. I suppose it didn't matter, as long as he stayed clear of calling me by my real name. It was too disconcerting.

"Look, there's land!" someone had called exuberantly from a distance away. More and more people began filtering out from the floor below, rushing over to catch a look at the small green slit which would be our landing point. Pegasus' island looked rather small from here, but I figured that with the harsh conditions he probably had set up—no room, no food—people would drop out quickly. And given that the other Yuugi's in the competition, with allegedly people who might be as fierce as he is in a duel, I'd bet that about half of the participants would be gone by later tonight.

"_Well, we got here rather quickly_," Nameless commented. He was right. It couldn't have been much past eight, and there were undoubtedly many passengers who were still sleeping. I briefly remembered one of the employees telling me we'd arrive in a couple hours—he was way off. Perhaps this was one of Pegasus' subtle ways to shave off even more participants. If any accidentally overslept, undoubtedly the ship would head back to Domino Pier without depositing them.

"_Grab your things in your room and let's get going._" Nameless disappeared while I started for the stairwell. It would probably be about twenty minutes until the ship arrived at the dock, so fortunately I had some time. It was a bit of a struggle to squeeze past the increasing crowd, but eventually I found myself back in the main hallway and heading towards my room.

But something was wrong the moment I slid my room key through the scanner and entered the room. As my eyes immediately evaluated my surroundings, I knew someone had been in there. All the drawers had been opened, the sheets tousled carelessly to the floor, and of course my only bag was gone.

Nameless had materialized next to me cursing.

"Who would possibly—"

"_Shut up. I'm thinking_," Nameless snapped. He looked like he wanted to hit someone.

"I guess now we know how it feels to have a room taken from us," I tried.

"_Shut up!_" he said again, much angrier this time. He began to walk about the room in a weird sort of pacing. I watched with an anxious silence until suddenly, he whipped around to face me.

"_Okay. Change of plans. Since obviously our duelist's glove and star chip have been taken from us, we can no longer wander around the island as I'd hoped—it's too risky_." Surprisingly, Nameless didn't sound too remorseful. His eyes were wild. "_So instead, we are going to head straight over to Pegasus' headquarters and __**steal **__his bloody millennium item from him_."

"How do you figure that placing ourselves directly into enemy territory is _less_ risky?" I demanded. "And besides, there is no way we can get away with that. You just can't walk right up to someone—let alone the facilitator to this tournament—and take their millennium item."

"_And why not?_" Nameless said indignantly. "_He just did that to us._"

"I—what?"

"_Well, not literally him, but still one of his employees_," he alleged. "_No one could get past this door unless he had the exact room key to match it. I checked this door myself—it's impossible to get in by picking it or by force. He must have ordered someone to enter this room and take our belongings_."

I was still lost. "But why would he do that?"

The spirit shrugged, still looking peeved. "_Looking for something, retribution, I don't know_. _Perhaps I didn't give him enough credit. I should have seen that he would have done something like this_."

"Well, there might be surveillance cameras around the ship," I supplied. "He might know that we stole this room."

Nameless stopped fidgeting. "_It's likely_," he admitted, "_which also means he knows about the ring_."

"So why isn't he going to stop us?" Before I asked the question, I already had a good idea what the answer would be.

Nameless smirked wryly. "_Why would he? Pegasus wants us to come to him, I bet. He wants the ring almost as bad as I want his own item_."

"'Almost'?"

The smirk widened dangerously. "_**No one**__ wants those items more than me_."

In the end, seeing that we had nothing to collect, I worked my way back on deck and waited for the ship to dock. It was undoubtedly crowded now, but not nearly as much as it had been a day ago. I'd wager that a good portion of the passengers were still sleeping.

"_Oh look, guess who's up_." I turned my head to glance at Yuugi, Jounouchi, Anzu, and Honda, all trudging around aimlessly looking like they had just finished running a triathlon. None of them looked happy to be there, not even Yuugi.

"Was it really that bad?" I asked the spirit. He didn't even need to be visible for me to sense the amusement in his voice. "_Let's just say it wasn't an __**ideal **__night_." I shook my head. I hoped they would make it through the tournament all right.

Nameless seemed to be reading my thoughts. "_Spare them your concern. They've got the other Yuugi with them. Apparently he doesn't lose._" The spirit paused here for dramatic effect. "_Until I get my hands on him._"

"Oh? Isn't that what you were sure of the last time?" As I'm sure he remembered, the outcome of the RPG he'd set up was not good. That is, for either of us. I rubbed my left hand absentmindedly.

"_That was merely practice_," Nameless said brusquely, his tone edging towards impatience. "_Now that I know how he plays games—unfairly—I've got a large advantage over him._"

"The other Yuugi does not play _anything_ unfairly!" I huffed indignantly. "He won Monster World out of pure skill and focus—"

"_This is where you shut up before I get really pissed off_," Nameless interrupted. "_Why you idealize him as much as you do, I haven't the faintest idea. __**Gods**__, the thoughts that run through your petty mind…"_

I felt my face darken as I clenched my jaw. It really wasn't fair, how easily Nameless could read my mind. It was bad enough he had access to my dreams, but with my thoughts it was much worse. At least with dreams I could claim that anything that goes on couldn't be controlled; with my thoughts it was purely a conscious process. Now of course, Nameless was ridiculing me for how often my mind flitted to the other Yuugi. In my defense though, it couldn't have been helped—he saved me after all, and seemed like he genuinely wanted to protect me just as he did with his friends. I admired how willing he was to sacrifice himself for the safety of others. He was a true martyr, a hero.

It was this association of heroism that I attached with the other Yuugi that I made an unlikely connection. "Spirit, when Shadi was talking about my part in 'fate'…he mentioned a Pharaoh."

"_Oh, so you noticed?_" He was being utterly sarcastic, yet I continued as if he hadn't been. "The other Yuugi is an ancient spirit from Egypt, just as you are…"

"_Do __**not **__compare us_," he growled irritably.

"…the other Yuugi was once a Pharaoh, wasn't he." I felt a warm wave of triumph here, as if I had solved some extraordinary mystery. Well, it was in my mind, considering that I had yet to figure out anything about the history of the millennium items, Nameless, or anything of that nature. Naturally my curiosity only grew the longer I was kept in the dark.

"_How do you know __**I'm**__ not the Pharaoh?_" the spirit posed casually.

I suppressed the urge to laugh. "I don't need your clarification to know that you're not. I'm sure of it."

"_Oh…? Really?_"

I wanted to brush this question off, yet I couldn't help but hesitate. "Yes, there's no way you were a Pharaoh back in ancient Egypt." Despite my words, there was still a hint of doubt in my tone.

The spirit clicked his tongue scornfully. "_Foolish Landlord. Believe what you want_." My brow furrowed at this. Nameless would take any opportunity to mess with me. I still wasn't convinced with what the spirit was suggesting, but the question still hung in the back of my mind quietly. If for some odd chance Nameless was a Pharaoh, then what would that make the other Yuugi?

At last the ship had settled at the dock and people were boarding off. Aside from having to avoid my small circle of friends, it was pretty easy slipping off the boat and breaking off from the pack. Security was preoccupied with randomly re-checking passengers' luggage, which left me to sneak off into the nearby woods. It was regrettable that I no longer had any belongings to make my stay here easier, but at least I didn't have to concern myself with carrying them along. I casually reached into my back pockets, just to see if I had stashed anything in there, then blinked back my surprise when I pulled out a small, compact duel deck. From the thickness I could tell there were around forty cards.

"_Lucky I stored these in your pocket_," Nameless commented from over my shoulder. "_They_ _will definitely come in handy_."

"Right, because Duel Monsters cards will be our one saving grace," I said with a frown. "It's not as if we can compete anyway."

Nameless smiled mysteriously. "_These cards aren't necessarily __**just**__ for dueling._" I was too distracted to look too far into that statement, my attention snagged on the impending castle that practically hovered over the entire island in its enormity.

Nameless caught onto my thoughts. "_Pegasus' castle_," he announced with an air of mockery. "_I guess now's the time to strike, eh, Landlord?_" In an instant, Nameless switched control with my body, flexing his fingers as he stared up at his newest target, leaving me to watch his actions from my soul room. He grinned dangerously, practically glowing with daring.

"He'll never know what hit him."

* * *

**A/N:** First thing, yes, I know that Nameless (or Bakura) had called Ryou "Landlord" several times in the past, but he primarily stuck to "Vessel." To me at least, that term represents something colder, while "Landlord" at least implies something is owed to Ryou. In other words, a slightly warmer relationship between Ryou and Bakura— albeit grudgingly—is beginning to form. Take that as you will ;)  
Secondly, small technicality, but there are forks on the cruise ship instead of chopsticks because Pegasus is an American, and we Americans like our mini-shovels! (I'm just throwing out random disclaimers here to spare you of pointing it out lol)  
Third thing, I'm thinking that my sudden spurt in random humor is beginning to pollute my precious "Ryou's Story." If you think it's a bit much, definitely tell me, okay friends?

AND lastly, of course, don't forget to drop a review on your way out! :)


	17. The Lesser of Two Evils

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot—will not—let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

**Note: From this point on, when referring to the items, I will call them "Sennen" items instead of "millennium." This move is done for the sake of continuity; if I am calling the characters by their Japanese names I should preserve the Japanese name for the items. (The same doesn't hold true for dueling cards since it would get too complicated). Additionally, I've chosen to swap the word "Shadow" in "Shadow Realm" for "Dark." It was never called a "Shadow Realm" in the original and I'm simply opting to choose a name that doesn't sound so childish. Wanna argue about it? Then let's talk :)**

A/N: Hi, everyone! I'm finally back. I realized it hasn't been since late July that I've had an update on "Ryou's Story," so I figure that's my immediate concern in terms of progress. I really have to thank all the people out there who are still glancing at this and even asking if I plan on updating! I apologize for the long wait, but as you all probably figured, this semester kicked me in the ass. Like, really hard.

And so I celebrate my first week of break by immediately catching up with my story. Please enjoy :)

* * *

Chapter Seventeen- The Lesser of Two Evils

He was reckless.

As Nameless strode down the long, vacant corridors of Pegasus' castle, I realized that he _wanted_ to be found. He wanted the quickest way to reach Pegasus, and above all, he wanted the quickest way to obtain the Sennen eye. Whether he encountered the guards first or Pegasus, he didn't care, just as long as he reached his destination. Luck, however, has an odd way of working—when one actually wants to get caught, rarely is anyone around.

So that left Nameless to quite a bit of sleuthing around, idly poking about until someone had the misfortune of running into him.

"He has an obsession," he said, barely interested enough to turn his head in my direction. "It seems Pegasus has more interests than causing people unnecessary trouble." He was referring to the numerous portraits of the same woman, lining wall after wall. It _was_ odd, yet I couldn't help but be fascinated with Pegasus' desire to have so many images of this person. Graced with flowing blonde locks and an attractive round face, this woman was quite beautiful. Who was she to Pegasus?

Before I could ponder on this any further, Nameless was already redirected elsewhere. "There are surveillance cameras everywhere. Was this supposed to be discreet?" Nameless batted at a tiny, but still noticeable, camera from behind a vase, sending it clear across the hallway. "Pathetic."

"_I thought_ _you wanted to get caught?_" I watched Nameless as he peered up at another surveillance camera, wedged behind one of the portraits. "_Um, what are you doing?_"

He waved a hand in front of the miniscule lens, leaning in closer. "Checking to see if it's working."

I blinked back confusion as I watched him reach up and probe at the device. He positioned it so it was directly focused on him. Satisfied, his face broke out into his trademark sneer. "Pegasus, I hope you're watching," he began, his casual tone strangely threatening. "Because if you are, know that I'm going to find you and take something very important from you—I think we both know what that is." Nameless paused, maybe for dramatic effect, while I looked on disapprovingly. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter, so you better be ready to hand it over."

"_That's really not how it works_," I muttered out of earshot. I very well knew there was probably going to be some horrendous fight over it, and probably some bloodshed. Hopefully that blood wouldn't be coming out of my body.

Finished with his threat, Nameless tore the camera down from its spot and flung it against the wall. He watched with a pleased expression as the contraption burst into shattered pieces.

"_Must you break everything?_" I asked.

Nameless shrugged, continuing on his way. "He knows I'm here. It's only a matter of time until I reach him. Besides, I don't like being watched."

I said nothing in response, only observing as Nameless moved further into the labyrinth of Pegasus' castle. He walked with a confidence that suggested he owned the place. Ironically, if it were me (in my own body) wandering around, I would likely be tripping over my feet.

He stopped when his eyes caught on a double-locked door. There were several padlocks, and the door, unlike others, was made of steel. There was even a number pad to the right of it.

"That isn't obvious," Nameless remarked. "Clearly nothing of importance is in here."

"_I_ _suppose you're going to try to get in?_" I asked. The numbers lining the security device went up to a hundred, guaranteeing that the chances of randomly selecting the right combination would be slim to none. I wondered how good the sprit's code-breaking skills were—and also if it would be unfavorable for me if he turned out to be a master decoder.

Nameless didn't bother to answer my question, simply evaluating the obstacle before him in silence. Then, without an additional second of hesitation, he raised his fist and smashed it into the wall, crushing in the number pad.

I instinctively gasped, and felt my cheeks burn as Nameless pierced me with a patronizing glance. I quickly recovered, changing the subject. "_You won't be able to break those locks. And from the looks of them, I doubt you'd be able to pick them open_."

As always, Nameless was unfazed. "You're right, _I_ won't," he said. A smile played a corner of his mouth. "But something else will." I watched as he slipped his duel deck out of his pocket, hastily shuffling through them.

I was dumbfounded. "_Really? Are you serious?_" In my mind, I had envisioned some sort of high-tech device Nameless had stolen before our departure to the island, and here he was taking out gaming cards. What did he plan to do, hurl his deck at the door? I shook my head, fully aware my speculations weren't making any sense.

As he usually did when he grew tired of my talking, Nameless ignored me. Instead he picked out a monster card—"Man-Eater Bug"—and held it an arm's length away.

"Let's give this one a try," he said nonchalantly. The Sennen ring sprang to life, smoldering while its light spread to the card as well.

With a deafening roar, a terrifying creature with branch-length pincers surfaced from the tile floor. What was transparent immediately solidified, morphing a possible illusion into a bone-chilling reality. The "Man-Eater Bug" was no longer an image on a card, but a monster twice my size that was no further than a yard away.

My hand flew up to my mouth to suppress a cry of alarm. I had to keep reminding myself I was in my spirit form, hopefully free from harm. I prayed Nameless had control over this creature. Though that wasn't very promising of my safety either.

Nameless hummed his satisfaction as he admired his creation. "Yes, this one will do."

Without so much as a warning, Nameless ordered the monster to attack the door. The "Man-Eater Bug" rotated towards the obstacle, and, opening its jaws wide, let out a blood-curdling screech. Its gaping mouth soon filled with a ball of energy that rocketed outward towards the door.

The power behind the energy made the steel look like a scrap of tin foil as it crumpled and melted away. The surrounding wall gave way as well, reducing to a mere pile of dust. The new opening was still smoking before Nameless broke out into a laugh. "I hope that'll cost a fortune to fix! That's what happens when anyone tries to keep something from me."

I was still trying to recuperate from the shock of seeing a real monster blast through a stone wall. "_Are you __**insane**__?_" I managed.

Nameless didn't hesitate. "Yes." I believed him, too.

With as little effort it took to summon the monster, Nameless dismissed it with a careless flick of his hand. The ring glowed once more, its light swallowing up the monster whole. Aside from the massive gap in wall, the area fell silent as if the creature had never been there.

Not a word was exchanged between Nameless and me as we proceeded to walk through the entryway and down the dark stairs that resided past it. My eyes were constantly flicking from corner to corner in search of danger, though eventually, it grew so dark I could no longer see.

"_Is there an 'on' switch with the ring?_" I asked half-jokingly.

"What? Afraid of the dark?" came the slightly amused reply.

I decided to humor him. "_Yes. Terrified, actually, of you falling into a trap and getting my body mangled._"

Nameless snorted. "Fair enough." A blinding glow exploded from the ring, chasing away every ounce of darkness from even the tiniest crevice.

Let me tell you what the light revealed that caused not only me, but Nameless, to take in a sharp breath. Nameless may have been momentarily caught off-guard out of surprise, though I was legitimately horrified.

"Well. I have to give Pegasus credit," Nameless piped up. His tone of voice was only slightly off. "He's more of a bastard than I imagined."

The foot of the steps led to a sort of narrow hallway. Running along the perimeters of only its left side were cell blocks. My eyes skimmed across the countless rows of bars that stretched towards the room's end, and it took me a moment to realize there were bodies inside every cell.

"_Oh my God_," I whispered.

Wordlessly, Nameless walked up one of the cells and peered inside. I tentatively followed suit. There was a man in the corner of his prison, limply propped against the stone wall. His head hung low as he remained eerily still.

"_Is he dead?_" I asked hesitantly. Maybe I didn't want to know.

The answer I received was one I did not expect. "No," Nameless said definitively, after gazing ahead for while, "but his soul is gone."

I tried to absorb this. "_What's…the difference?_"

Nameless shot me a look to imply he was getting annoyed with me again. For asking too many questions. "Dark magic was involved. This man's soul is trapped somewhere, but it's hasn't 'passed on' to the afterlife."

I sucked in a breath. "_That's_ _horrible_."

Nameless grunted. "I'm sure he hasn't been trapped for, say, three thousand years, so I can't say I take pity on him."

I had no idea what Nameless was getting at with that statement, so I pressed him on another question. "_Why would Pegasus do this?_"

"What am I now, a mind-reader?" Nameless snapped. "How would I possibly know the answer to that?" I shook my head defensively, feeling slightly wounded. He seemed so sure on everything else, why wouldn't I assume he knew the answer?

With a loud huff, Nameless moved on, his eyes roaming over every corpse as he moved down the hall. "Hey," he finally said, "You know this kid?"

That wasn't something I wanted to hear. I reluctantly appeared at Nameless' side. "_Who?_" I asked. I turned my head to where Nameless was pointing, soon realizing I did vaguely recognize the small body that resided in that particular cell. As to what that kid was doing hostage in Pegasus' castle, I had no idea.

"_That's Seto Kaiba's little brother_," I confirmed. I had only met him once, when I was on a rare outing with my loosely-knit group of friends. We were at an arcade, and I distinctly remembered the young child marching right up to Yuugi and giving him trouble. He clearly took after his brother, which meant by default he wasn't easy to forget. Despite his bratty attitude, I didn't dislike him…I felt sorry for him. With a brother like Kaiba (and, according to rumors, with no other family), the child just needed a positive influence; he was misled. He certainly didn't deserve whatever Pegasus was putting him through.

"_We have to get him out_," I said decidedly.

Nameless lifted an eyebrow. "I didn't come here on a rescue mission, Landlord. I'm here to take the Sennen eye."

"_Yes, I know that_," I replied impatiently, "_but I can't just let a kid stay trapped in a cell in some psycho's castle while his soul is __**missing**__. We should try to save him_."

Nameless barked a laugh. "You're really too much. Whatever made you think that I'd be willing to save a random kid—"

"_He's not a random kid, he's the brother of someone I know_."

"And do you happen to like this said someone…?"

I fidgeted. "_Well, no_."

"Then you see, you'd be wasting both our time. Forget the brat."

My shoulders slumped. I knew it was a lost cause asking something so 'heroic' of Nameless, but I thought it was worth a try. I'm sure the spirit of the puzzle would have saved Kaiba's brother without thinking twice about it.

Nameless proceeded to walk a few paces, then stopped. I eyed him warily as he glanced back at the cell containing Kaiba's brother.

"Unless…" he began. He didn't finish his thought, letting his voice die down. He was scheming something.

"_Unless what?_" I pressed.

"Maybe I _will_ come back to retrieve the brat's body," Nameless said casually.

I didn't buy it. "_Why_," I said flatly.

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"_Yes, but why_," I repeated. "_What's in it for you?_"

"Always so suspicious," Nameless tsked. "It could be possible—" He stopped. His head whipped towards the stairs. "Someone's coming." I soon heard oncoming footsteps as well and fought the urge to hide somewhere. I still hadn't adjusted to being transparent.

Just from the sound of feet hitting against the floor, I could tell whoever was coming was a giant of a person. The lumbering, heavy thud made me bite my lip anxiously.

The man who finally stepped into the wide ring of light Nameless' Sennen item provided proved my speculations correct. He was alarmingly tall, built, and menacing in appearance; undoubtedly a guard. His lips were thinned to a grimace when he observed the intruder.

"I was wondering when one of you morons would figure out something was…amiss," Nameless greeted. "Broken surveillance cameras, crushed-in steel door…" Nameless gave a nod of feigned respect. "Your training as a guard is really top-notch."

"Shut your mouth," the guard barked. He approached Nameless, looming over him by almost two feet. "Who are you to break in here and act like it's your God-given right?"

"_Everything_ is my God-given right," Nameless replied with an amused smirk.

I could tell the guard was almost in awe of Nameless who, significantly weaker in physique, was fearless in running his mouth with as much disrespect as possible.

"I don't know if you really aren't afraid of me or are just plain stupid," the guard started. "But do you see those people in their cells?"

"How could I not?" Nameless quipped.

"Well that could be you real soon if you don't answer some of my questions."

Nameless hummed a low note in thought. "I can tell you right now that despite what you think, you are not in control of the situation. You won't get an answer from me, though you're welcome to try attacking me. I'm bored anyway."

The guard started for his target, but Nameless held up a hand. "Actually," he drawled. "I'm looking for Pegasus. Why don't you take me to him?"

"You know what? I've decided you're not being brave; you're just stupid," the guard said. "I need to teach you some respect."

A familiar spark lit up in Nameless' eyes which I instantly recognized as a dangerous combination of excitement and recklessness.

"Go for it." Then Nameless did one of the most insulting actions in combat; he turned his back.

If Nameless was attempting to infuriate the guard, it worked beautifully. As if all self-control snapped within that moment, the guard leapt towards Nameless, whipping out a gun from behind. My stomach dropped as the man poised the barrel right at the back of Nameless'—_my_—head.

"Wanna give me a hard time? Then you die." I heard the unmistakable _click_ of the trigger being cocked.

There was a horrifying instant when I realized that a bullet could explode through my skull and kill me, just like that. I'd die in this underground prison and no one would ever know where I was.

But Nameless didn't allow much time for me to ponder this. With an almost inhuman agility, he slipped behind the guard and sliced into the air with the edge of his hand. It briefly—yet violently—came into contact with the back of the guard's neck, while at the same time I heard the ear-splitting sound of a gun being fired.

With the faint echo of the shot still reverberating in the air, I realized with overwhelming relief Nameless was the faster of the two. The guard emitted a heavy groan as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. I had the urge to yell at Nameless for provoking the guard to the point of risking my life, but I was overcome with a pretty irrelevant detail.

"_My body can do __**that**__?_" I said in a mix of surprise and relish. My mind flitted back to how smoothly my body shifted behind such a hulking figure and inflicted a blow powerful enough to take him out.

"Your pathetic vessel doesn't make it easy," Nameless replied. As if he were stepping over a puddle of mud, he moved over the unconscious body. "I guess I'll have to find Pegasus on my own, then." He sighed.

I speculated that Nameless must have been in an unusually good mood that day. Because as I very well knew, if he weren't, he would have no qualms shipping the guard's soul to the Dark Realm. I guessed his mood must have been a result of being on a mission to retrieve a new Sennen item.

"_Where are you going now?_" I asked.

"Out of here, obviously." Nameless rolled his eyes. "There's nothing to do here except wait for _him_ to wake up and waste more of my time." He shot the guard a glance before turning towards the stairs, about to leave. Then he stopped.

I knew what was on his mind. "_Is that really necessary?_" I demanded before Nameless even acted on his thought.

He crouched down and began rifling through the guard's possessions, his hands deftly grabbing a wallet, a knife, and the very gun that was used in vain to bring him down.

"I'm a thief, what else would I do?" Nameless asserted matter-of-factly. It annoyed me how proud he seemed of his lack of morals. He whistled as he examined the gun closely. "With my ring, I don't really have a need for this…but there's no harm in having a backup plan." It alarmed me how serious he was.

As his words still hung in the air, Nameless turned and retreated up the stairs, the room full of prisoners falling back into darkness.

* * *

Despite the guard's lack of information, Nameless found where Pegasus was residing—or hiding—fairly easily. All it took was a person who crumbled easily under pressure, a threat, and of course the ring.

As I already knew, the ring's spikes always point in the direction of a Sennen item, which helped to some extent in finding Pegasus. However, there was some sort of disturbance in the air of the castle, leading to an only semi-functioning ring. Sometimes it would direct us in the correct general area, other times it simply wouldn't work at all.

Upon realizing this, Nameless was of course annoyed. "This never happens," he growled. "What the hell could be causing this?" He let the ring drop from his hand, its pentacles jangling noisily as it swung from its cord.

"_Thick walls?_" I supplied.

Nameless angrily shook his head. "Was never a factor before." He stalked down the corridors in a brooding silence until he picked up on a new sound. I too was soon able to discern a faint, rhythmic squeak of a wheel as it drew closer.

A trolley cart rounded a corner, pushed by a young woman who was likely a sort of maid. She was humming quietly to herself until she caught sight of Nameless. She fell silent.

He took a step forward. "Hello," he said pleasantly. Ironically, it was his 'pleasant' tone that invoked the most fear within me. I was scared for the girl.

Wide-eyed, the girl clutched onto her cart. "Are you a competing duelist?" She seemed to know the answer even while she asked it. "Because you're not supposed to be in here yet."

Nameless ignored her question. "If that's true, then you need to work on security. I got in here _quite_ easily." Actually, he wasn't lying. All we'd had to do was go through the back entrance. The door was even propped open, much to Nameless' delight.

The girl straightened her posture. "Please leave the premises until you have collected all ten star chips."

Nameless proceeded to walk up to the girl. "I'm not here to compete." A few paces later he was face-to-face with her, his features perfectly smoothed over. It was the mask hiding a monster.

Regardless of the calm façade presented to her, the girl sensed danger and started to back up. She never got the chance to move away any further, immediately snapped to a halt when Nameless pressed the stolen gun to her forehead.

She began to whimper out of utter fear when Nameless held up a finger.

"I only want to know one thing," he said softly. He took his time pressing the gun's cool metal against her skin. "Where is Pegasus?"

Sweat was beading on her forehead. "I-I was bringing him lunch," she whispered. I could tell she was trying hard to suppress her trembling, and I felt a stab of pity for her. "If you head back the way you came there's an elevator on your right." She took a deep breath. "Take the elevator to the fourth floor…it should be the second to highest one. There's only one room on that floor, but you'll need a card to get in."

Nameless seemed pleased with this answer. He wasn't finished, though. "And where might I get one of these cards? I assume you have one?"

"Y-yes."

Wordlessly, Nameless held out his free hand. The girl swallowed hard, and with slightly shaking hands, reached into one of her front pockets and pulled the card out. She dispensed the object into Nameless' open hand, careful not to come in contact with his skin as it if were poisonous.

Nameless' hand curled around the card as he tucked it away. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Though I must, regrettably, ask one more thing of you." His gaze bore directly into the girl. "Tell anyone what just happened, and you will die. You understand? I will kill you."

By now the girl was drained of all color. She numbly nodded her head.

"Good. Now for your sake, I hope you'll keep this a secret." He held a finger to his lips, slowly pulling the gun away from the girl's head. She nearly collapsed in relief, tightly clutching her chest.

He turned away from his victim and began to walk away. "Have a nice day," he called out amiably. She didn't have to face him to hear the smirk in his voice. From a distance, I could hear the faint sound of the girl crying.

With one thing in mind, I took a gamble. "_You_ _don't know how to use a gun_," I stated. I knew that with modern technology, Nameless' range of knowledge only extended as far as mine did. And fortunately, I was clueless in how to handle such a deadly weapon. His threat of shooting that maid was only a hoax.

"No," Nameless replied, unfazed. "But I make a convincing actor, don't you think?"

"_You ruthless devil. That poor girl was terrified_."

"Yes, that would be the point." I only made a sound of disgust, not wishing to continue the conversation. Although I did take solace in the fact the girl wasn't exactly in danger, Nameless was legitimately heartless. He didn't care who he terrorized.

Nameless sensed my hostility. "Listen, Landlord. When you're on a mission, you've got to do anything within your power to accomplish that mission." We were silent as he entered the elevator and punched in the correct floor number. He spoke up again. "And yes, I don't care how 'ruthless,' as you put it, that I have to be in order to achieve my goal. I have to—I _need_ to— collect all the Sennen items. Nothing or no one will get in my way. Understand?"

I didn't answer him. I had nothing to say to him. Because in my mind, I didn't understand him, nor did I think I would ever. But that was then.

At the same time, a question pricked at my thoughts.

Why did Nameless even feel the need to explain his reasoning to _me_?

* * *

Nameless exploded through the doors leading to Pegasus' quarters with theatrical obnoxiousness. The instant the doors parted, he marched right in and kicked over a nearby stand supporting a vase to make his presence known. Not that he needed the help.

"Hope you weren't waiting long," Nameless announced as he folded his arms triumphantly.

Pegasus, as it turned out, wasn't at all surprised with the unexpected intrusion of his private room. Before he was interrupted with his own musings, he was staring straight at a large screen that divided into various sections. A look closer indicated the screen was showing all the separate areas of his castle. So, as both Nameless and I had suspected earlier, he was probably watching us closely the whole time, thus ruining his "surprise" visit.

Upon hearing Nameless and the cringe-worthy shatter of his vase, Pegasus only slowly turned his head, peering at the intruder through his long curtain of silver hair. He was loosely holding a glass of red wine, and stopped swirling it as he examined Nameless.

A tense, if not awkward, sort of pause ensued. Pegasus continued to scrutinize Nameless, and Nameless, I could tell, was getting annoyed. He expected some violent reaction from the Sennen eye-wielder, emotional fireworks if you want to call it that, and instead received a dud.

"Oh, you wanted a response from me?" Pegasus asked pleasantly, as if reading Nameless' thoughts. "Please forgive me. Let me try again." He finished off the rest of his wine by brusquely throwing back his head, then set his glass on the nearby coffee table.

Pegasus turned back to Nameless sharply, clapping his hands to his mouth. "My God," he gasped, feigning awe, "You're even nastier in person than on the big screen! What could you possibly want from me?"

"If you were smart, you would avoid pissing me off," Nameless warned, leaning his head back. He sized up his enemy disapprovingly. "I take it you know why I'm here?"

Pegasus smiled. "Why, of course! Especially after watching that charming message you had for me…what was it exactly that you said? 'Be ready to hand it over,' by which you mean my Sennen eye?" Through the long strands of his hair, I could tell he actually had the item inserted in place of his real one, though it was mostly concealed. I didn't want to see his face in its entirety; the thought of the Sennen eye replacing his eyeball was just too much.

Nameless was no longer in the mood to mess around. "Yes. Now relinquish the eye before you see that 'nasty' side of me."

Pegasus blinked at Nameless with his only working eye before splaying his arms out. "Now, Bakura-boy, be reasonable. You're asking me to simply rip my Sennen item right out of my socket?" He sounded as pleasant as if he were suggesting they talk over a cup of tea.

"That sounds about right," Nameless said. He paused. It took about a second for both of us to realize what was wrong with Pegasus' statement. "How do you know my name?" he demanded.

"_That isn't your name_," I muttered. I was ignored.

Pegasus once more blinked with his only working eye. "Why, don't you know what my item's power is?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Come now, Bakura-boy, how can you ask me to give up the eye if you don't even know what it does?"

Nameless was caught off-guard, but only for a moment. "It must be able to read minds," he asserted. "Obviously."

"Bingo!" Pegasus cheered. There was a bright light flashing from his concealed eye. "Though I must admit, I'm having a bit of trouble probing yours…there's some sort of 'disturbance.'"

Nameless looked pleased. "Pity," he said. "Speaking of 'disturbance,' I noticed there's something different in the air in your castle." He continued on as Pegasus looked slightly perplexed. "You see, I've got a Sennen item too…" The ring glowed from beneath his jacket, protruding forth until it was in full view. The pentacles splayed out and trembled with energy.

"Pretty!" Pegasus exclaimed.

"Yes, and this ring is capable of locating other Sennen items. With yours though, I had trouble; there was a sort of 'disturbance' as well. Any thoughts?"

"Not a one," the man said cheerfully. "But I do have thoughts about your ring! It's so lovely I think it would really add to my collection."

Nameless looked slightly amused. "See now that's why I'm here, as I told you. I need that eye, whether it's voluntarily or by force."

Pegasus raised a hand to his false eye. "And how do you suppose we get it out?"

"Quite easily; I'd tear it out."

Dramatically, Pegasus placed the back of his hand to his forehead. "How barbaric. And get blood all over my new carpet!" Strangely, I could never be too sure whether he was serious or simply in a constant state of mockery.

With a graceful swipe of his hand, Pegasus brushed the curtain of hair out of his face, fully revealing his shiny, golden Sennen eye. Nameless instinctively tensed up, his gaze trained on his sought-after item. I could see his hands practically itching to reach out and grab at it.

Pegasus noticed the spirit's interest and smiled widely. "Might I suggest an alternative to simply handing over my most-prized possession?" Beyond the formalities, it wasn't a suggestion—it was a demand. His amber eyes narrowed dangerously, all humor gone. "Let's play a Dark Game for it."

Even in my transparent form, I felt my heart skip a beat. "_Spirit_," I whispered, despite knowing that Pegasus couldn't hear or see me, "_What if you_—"

"_Lose?_" he supplied flatly. "_Don't insult me with your doubts_."

I began to chew on my lip, mind racing with possibilities. What if Nameless was underestimating Pegasus? Then again, I knew how powerful the spirit of the ring truly was, and I'm sure he only grew stronger from the last time he had to seriously use the ring's powers…

"Fine," Nameless announced to his opponent. "I suggest we play the 'Battle of Wills.'"

"Even better than what I had in mind," Pegasus replied surreptitiously. His tiny smile made my skin crawl—I knew something was up.

I dared to grab Nameless' arm. "_Please listen to me. I don't think you should have agreed to this. There's something about Pegasus that's making me nervous_." Nameless didn't dare to swat my hand away in consideration of Pegasus knowing about my existence, yet shot me with a look that electrified me. I pulled away.

"_Stay out of this_," he threatened lowly. It had been a while since he had used _that_ tone with me, one that implied he could and would hurt me. I recoiled from him, slightly hurt. I was only trying to prevent something bad from happening, which I should be more than entitled to do since it was _my_ body being jeopardized.

But what if Nameless _did_ lose, and then what? Would that have meant I would be free from him, or would we both go? Whatever I thought, I knew it didn't matter; Nameless made that quite clear. All I could do at that point was stay back and hope nothing detrimental would happen to my body.

"I do hope your mastery of the ring is as powerful as that fiery spirit of yours," Pegasus drawled. "It's been awfully boring as of late and I'm craving some entertainment."

"Pathetic," Nameless spat out, "You talk as if you'll win. Let's find out now who deserves to be wielding the items more than the other." As he said this, the ring began to glow with a blinding golden light, steadily pulsating with energy.

Pegasus ventured a step closer as his eye lit up as well. An intimidating beam of energy shot out from his item, being met with the ring's blast. Both collided with a heart-stopping explosion, causing the various picture frames hanging from the walls to shatter to the ground. I looked on in awe as the two forces began the battle for dominance.

I fleetingly wondered what could increase one's power when undergoing this Dark Game. Was it merely based on one's desire to win? Because if that were true, I was more than sure Nameless would win that game in a second. I particularly recalled when the spirit announced his certainty that "no one" wanted the items more than himself. I fully believed that.

My theory was further confirmed when I noticed the energy from the ring was extending father than the Sennen eye's beam of light. As Nameless' stream of energy grew larger and longer, Pegasus' dimmed down to a tinier version of what it once was. The purple hue that radiated from the eye-wielder's item grew fainter, reminding me of a candle about to be snuffed out. All of this happened within a few seconds. It would be a short-lived battle.

I realized that in watching this, my satisfaction grew with every advancement of the ring's dominance. I actually felt relief in watching Pegasus struggle harder than Nameless, and I couldn't tell if that was because of the safety of my body or the safety of the spirit himself. Did I really _want_ him to win? I dismissed this thought, convincing myself that it must have been my desire to ensure my body's wellbeing.

It wasn't long before Pegasus would have to be subjected to defeat. A tiny bead of sweat slipped down his face as his entire being trembled from the exertion he was placing into this fight.

"Not so arrogant now, eh?" Nameless called out to his struggling opponent. His arrogant grin couldn't have possibly grown wider. His hypocrisy, of course, eluded him.

I knew that Pegasus was really wearing down when he didn't bother to respond. I watched as his legs began to shudder, as if to give out on him.

But within a moment, something strange happened. The energy protruding from the ring, which was a vibrant gold color, was being tainted with an inky black aura which also oozed from the ring. This new presence wound its way around the gold, coiling as a snake might, reached the end of the energy beam, and broke apart the connection between it and Pegasus' attack.

I began to panic when I saw the shock on Nameless' face. That wasn't supposed to happen. Why was that black aura coming from the ring and helping _Pegasus_? I looked on with horror as the purple energy rays gained momentum and pushed through the golden light. With the aid of the mysterious black presence, it engulfed Nameless' power whole, smothering his energy force instantaneously.

Now Pegasus began to laugh. "How about that? Looks like this game is over, Bakura-boy!" He wasted no time in extending the power from his eye to reach out and wrap around Nameless'—my— body.

My mind was racing. What just happened, where did this intrusive energy force come from? Nameless was going to lose, and it seemed by his own hand.

I felt dizzy as I watched the invasive violet light coiling around my frame even tighter and then, in one jerking motion, yanked out the spirit of the ring. For a moment I saw two bodies—mine and his—until the light completely swallowed him whole. Before Nameless fully vanished from view, our eyes met. It was odd, but he looked slightly dazed, as if he didn't quite believe what had happened. The biggest issue being, he just lost a Dark Game. And in these sorts of games, losing is fatal. Fatal to him, possibly fatal to me.

My eyes were forced shut from the flash of blinding light, and when they reopened he was gone. Nameless had been devoured by the dark energy.

The roar of the Sennen eye's energy finally died down to silence. All I could hear now was the ringing in my ears. My heart heavily pulsated in my chest, fear gnawing at me as I tried to decide what would happen next, but then I realized that I was feeling all these things in my own tangible body, not as a spirit. I looked down at the ring hanging from my neck, glinting faintly from the few shreds of light that permeated the room. Finally, I forced my gaze up at Pegasus, who gave me the most bewildered expression.

"Whaaaat?" he drawled. His eyebrows pinched together, examining me. "You're still here?"

I took a step back. "I…"

Pegasus shook his head. "Now that's not fair. You were supposed to be taken to the Dark Realm, and here you are!" He held out his arms helplessly and sighed. "Well, I suppose there are more important things to address right now. For instance, would you be so kind as to relinquish that beautiful ring around your neck?"

My mind scrambled to think of an appropriate answer. Would it be in my favor to let Pegasus think I was Nameless?

I didn't get to toy with that idea for long. Pegasus stopped with his chatter as he gazed at me silently, critically. "You're not the individual I was facing earlier," he at last said.

I took another step back. Knowing that it would be futile to hide the truth, I gave a tentative shake of my head.

The man before me arched his eyebrows high. "And so different too. I can tell without you even saying a word."

I failed to think of a response to this, my thoughts entirely consumed by a more important question: _What do I do now?_

"Well, I suppose that doesn't matter much," Pegasus continued. "All I ask is that you hand over the ring."

I finally settled on a course of action. No matter what, I wouldn't give this man the ring. I couldn't. Even if it was the source of so much vexation in my life, I could not drop it into the hands of someone infinitely more deadly than I.

"No." It was all I needed to say for him to get the message— for him to look at me with utter surprise. Before thinking further on this, pivoting on my heel, I dashed out through the doors. I was thankful there were stairs next to the elevator, otherwise I would have never slipped through Pegasus' fingers so easily.

But the sound of laughter followed after me. "You're avoiding the inevitable!" Pegasus called out. "Don't you see, boy, you can't hide from me!"

Pegasus never went after me. However, it was just as terrible hearing his eerily-cheerful voice blasting through the speakers throughout the castle, as if he lingered behind every corner, every shadow.

"_I've just read your mind, and I know that you __**will **__be coming back!_" These words reverberated down the empty hallways, travelling faster than I could flee. Down the length of the corridors, rows and rows of portraits of the same woman faced me, staring at me. I felt like a thief who was just caught stealing, having his identify revealed throughout the store and having to face the accusatory glares of his witnesses. Maybe it was the fear of seeing these identical faces, or the nausea from hearing Pegasus' laughter, but despite my fatigue I ran faster.

I ran past the long, empty hallways and down an impossibly large flight of stairs, my eyes darting left and right for any signs of security guards. There were none. Perhaps they were all about the island enforcing rules on the duelists. Whatever the reason, I was grateful, because otherwise I am certain I would have been caught.

I was tired of always running. It felt like, recently, I had been fleeing from threats far too frequently for my own good. Given, Nameless was usually in control in these situations, but it was still my body. This scenario reminded me far too much of not too long ago when Nameless and I fled from the interrogation room on the ship, only this time I was the actor, not the witness on the sidelines. One would think this is a reason to be thankful, yet I was not. Surely I would get caught at some point, if not now.

Mercifully, there was a side-door exit a short distance away. The moment of relief died quickly, though, when I skidded to a stop upon seeing one of the larger portraits of the mystery woman flip over to reveal a video screen. The screen instantly lit up, revealing Pegasus' face staring intently at me. He must have still been in the room I escaped from, yet I felt his presence as if he were really in front of me. Instinctively I flinched away from the screen, despite knowing it was only an image.

"_Did you get the message, Bakura-boy? I said I know you will be coming back. And I'm always right_," Pegasus' said. Despite his pleasant tone, the look on his face was terrifying. He pierced right through my soul with that unblinking golden eye, as if he knew every agonizing detail about me. "_When that time comes, I will take what is rightfully mine…let us hope you don't 'accidentally' lose your soul along the way!_" A chill shot through my body at these words. In that moment, in his dark, twisted face, I could look past his collected exterior and see how evil he truly was.

Un-gluing my feet from the floor, I shot past the screen and out through the door. With the gust of wind and blinding sunlight that hit my face, I let out a long sigh. Only until I was a safe distance away I allowed myself to slow down and catch my breath, my shoulders slumping. I had escaped, at least momentarily.

Thinking back, I was surprised that Pegasus never bothered to make an effort to catch me. It would have been easy to take the ring by force. Being on his island made it difficult to maintain a low profile, especially considering that he had security scattered throughout the area who were eager to send people back to Domino. Or in this case, steal my ring and then send me back to Domino.

But if there was one thing I learned from my encounter with Pegasus, it was that he was an indirect sort of man, one who didn't prefer direct confrontations. It would explain all the hidden cameras and his insistence on the finalists coming to him on his own turf, not the other way around. Although he sought after the Sennen items, he had no intention of going out of his way and getting them…no, he would make others come to him instead. He must have expected the same from me.

I cringed, the notion of that man raking through my thoughts disturbing me. I wondered what it was that he saw, what it was that made him so certain I would be returning. Did he assume that I had a one-track mind like Nameless, and refused to leave without an additional Sennen item in hand? Well, he was wrong. Unlike my tormentor, I had common sense.

Which brought my thoughts over to Nameless. It was hard to explain, but despite his loss in the Dark Game, I just _knew_ he would find a way to return. The day he played Monster World with my friends came to mind, and I was more than aware that he was capable of avoiding an official "penalty" for losing. I was never too sure how he managed to come crawling back, but somehow he did, and would probably never tell me why that was.

With nothing else to do, I began to backtrack through the woods, retracing the steps Nameless marched through before our failed attempt at getting the Sennen eye. As I thought, it was only a matter of time before he would come back. And I refused to give him the satisfaction in showing him my surprise when the time came, because I _wouldn't_ be. Only annoyed.

I couldn't help but recall the time when he smugly informed me that he was a permanent resident of my soul room, since it harbors everything that defines me: my interests, my desires, my hopes, my _fears_. I didn't buy into this, honestly, because I was well aware that Nameless liked to toy with my ignorance. He probably would have liked me to think this, so I would believe that he was always watching, but I had yet to find evidence of this claim. And besides, now that I thought about it, I _wasn't_ afraid of Nameless. I mean, not too long ago I used to be, but the more I spoke with him the more tangible he seemed to me. More human. He had emotions, though very limited ones. I'm sure he had likes too, though probably far more dislikes. Point being, Nameless was no longer an enigmatic shadow following me. Beyond the air of mystery surrounding him, he had a face (although mine), and he had an identity. Or at least, sort of.

It might have been odd, or maybe even wrong to view him in this way, but I slowly began to see him as an inconvenience rather than the devil himself, or perhaps only a dormant threat—like a cobra with the fangs removed. There were times, like earlier, when he told me to stop intervening with his fight with Pegasus, that I felt a twinge of "fear," yet nothing like the full onslaught of terror that would rack my body when I first encountered him.

Regardless, acknowledging that I wasn't afraid of him only confirmed my suspicion that Nameless, as usual, was lying to me when he claimed he had a permanent stake in my soul room. So as to how he would be coming back from wherever he was sent to, I hadn't the faintest idea. I only knew that he _would_ be, never mind the when's and how's.

I glanced down at the ring that dangled lifelessly from my neck. Wrapping my fingers around the curve of the gold metal, I lifted the ring up to eye level, examining it closely.

"Spirit?" I probed hesitantly, giving the item a good shake. I wasn't too sure why I felt talking to an inanimate object would have done anything, yet I tried anyway. "Spirit, are you in there?" Nothing. My brow furrowed as I shook the ring a final time. "If you're going to be coming out, it might as well be now." Still nothing.

Slightly irritated, I let the ring drop from my hands as it swung back down with a noisy jangle. I guess I would have to wait until he magically reentered my life again. I let out a sigh, continuing to walk down a winding dirt path until I could think of something more progressive to do.

Not more than a few steps later I had stopped once more. The spirit of the _ring _wasn't around, but what about…?

No. That would not be a good idea, trying to summon him. The last time I saw _him_, (the only time, mind you), everything spun way out of control. It wasn't his fault I suppose, although there was something about Nameless' response to his more enigmatic doppelganger that gave me reason to reconsider.

But what if he was still in the ring? Wouldn't he have come out by now? Maybe he was only a memory caged within Nameless' soul room, like a record player caught on the same part. The alternative, of course, would suggest that he was a separate being from Nameless, one that Nameless wanted to hide from me. It made me long to know how there could have possibly been two of them. From what I witnessed, they were so different from one another— it would be difficult to believe they stemmed from the same entity, if that were possible.

I still remembered those haunting, blank eyes. What was it about them that caused shivers to claw down my body? He wasn't unpleasant though, a far cry from Nameless, which sparked my curiosity enough to want to see him again. Besides, if he were around, maybe _he_ would know what to do.

I braced myself. "Thief King?" Silence. I tried again, only to be met with the same response.

To be honest, I felt a slight twinge of disappointment, and embarrassment too, for speaking to air. A short distance away, I heard a pair of duelists happily crying out insults to the other. I frowned, suddenly remembering where I was. It wouldn't have been wise to be lingering so close to Pegasus' castle, where plenty of individuals lurked about in hopes of convincing security they had enough star chips to get in.

I pushed myself to continue walking, trailing farther into unfamiliar territory. I didn't want to deal with a champion-wannabe challenging me to Duel Monsters, which I think I should mention now that I had no idea how to play. Maybe I should have paid more attention during all those times Yuugi would whip out his cards and play against Jounouchi. Come to think it, just about everybody played Duel Monsters at school. It was such a huge fad, it would be difficult to walk to class without hearing random Duel Monsters' names being shouted from across the hallway. I suppose I might have picked up a few tricks here or there, but for the most part, I strongly preferred my RPGs.

My mind was temporarily distracted from rousing an ancient spirit from the ring in favor of taking out the cards Nameless had stashed in my back pocket. I had never actually looked at them. He had earlier told me that the cards reflect not only a duelist's preferred strategy, but his character as well, which makes sense, I guess. If there were thousands of cards, how would one be able to choose what to include in their deck? Naturally, a person would select the cards that appealed to them for various reasons. I was confident that Nameless had included at least a handful of occult-related monsters. To test my theory, I fanned out all the cards in front of me, carefully eyeing each inscription. Turned out I was right. "Goblin Zombie," "Headless Knight," "Earthbound _Spirit_"? That last one reminded me of a particular someone…

My eyes caught on a card and I stopped shuffling through the deck. "Dark Necrofear." A long, sleek, androgynous body stood eerily in the center, an android with feminine curves and a masculine demeanor. Its sapphire-stained skin was adorned in layers of steel and held together merely through bolts. The entire midsection was devoid of skin but revealed its skeletal infrastructure. Cradled in its strong arms was a decomposing baby doll, its eyes rolling up as if possessed. This monster was perhaps the most disconcerting I had ever seen…yet it held an odd appeal to me. It was beautiful.

Reluctantly, I slowly continued to sift through the deck. "Dark Necrofear" was still burned in my mind, its vacant eyes somehow holding significance as they lifelessly stared ahead. I couldn't identify the allure this card had for me. After all, it was only a card. Yet somehow, gazing into those strange eyes almost made it seem alive.

Before I could examine the card any further, I was interrupted by the jarring sensation of a body ramming past mine.

"Watch it!" the guy hissed, barely glancing over his shoulder to look at me. Sunglasses and a bandana partially concealed his identity, though my memory was jolted enough to realize he was the same person who was about to be interrogated on Pegasus' cruise ship.

I opened my mouth to say something, though it was a futile effort. This man was already continuing on his way, loudly snapping fallen branches with his thick boots. A prick of anger coursed through me as I watched him retreat. While he was barreling past me, he had knocked my deck out of my hands in the process.

I suppressed the dark thoughts that formulated in my mind as I hastily scooped up the scattered cards. People always crashed into me, shoved me, without so much as an apology. Had I been someone else, would I have received a more courteous response? Maybe my appearance, in addition to my "passive" personality (as Nameless put it), could only mean being taken advantage of, over and over again.

I rubbed my elbow absentmindedly where it still slightly ached from the shove. I thought of what Nameless would have said.

"Stupid bastard_," _I whispered, tasting the words in my mouth. It felt strange…but good. Now if only I could have said that while the offending person ran into me.

Well, why not? Why couldn't I act rude to someone else, shove back when someone shoved me? Anyone who I dared to call a friend barely acknowledged my existence. I was a nobody, even to them. Even to my father.

Subconsciously, my hand had clenched onto the deck. There was something stirring inside of me, though I didn't know what. Was it anger? Resentment? Hatred? I suddenly began to feel hot, and I initially thought it was because of my surge of emotions. But a glance down at the hand holding the duel deck proved otherwise. The card on top was pulsing, outlined with a golden energy.

"What the—" I dropped the deck as if it were a hot coal, sending the cards scattering across the ground again. The card that was glowing still continued to shudder, and I looked on with panic, all thoughts of hostility forgotten. On its own, it flipped over, revealing the "Man-Eater Bug," the card Nameless had used earlier.

"_Seriously_?" I mumbled incredulously. What could I have possibly done to have made this card go crazy? I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as I scrambled to think of what to do. Hastily, I reached out to grab the card, but it slipped through my fingers as if it were transparent. It continued to pulse heavily, then with a blinding flash, a form erupted from the tiny card.

Before my very eyes, the "Man-Eater Bug" was standing directly in front of me. It released a painful screech, stretching its arms and slicing at the air.

My head whipped around me to see if anyone was nearby. Fate had it that everyone who was easily within earshot had disappeared. I stumbled back a couple steps, staring at the monster wide-eyed. Was it going to attack me?

I soon found out. Letting out another shriek that was capable of tearing open the sky, the monster filled its mouth with a threatening bundle of energy. It turned its frame towards me, and throwing its head back, unleashed the attack.

I only missed the attack by a hair's width, but the tree behind me wasn't so fortunate. The energy came in contact with the tree trunk for only a moment before the whole tree was reduced to dust. I observed the damage with increasing nausea. That could have been me.

I abruptly turned to run. However, the violent movement resulted in an uprooted branch to catch my foot, and soon I found myself tumbling to the ground. When I looked back at the monster, it was already preparing for another attack. There was no way I could get out of the way in time.

I braced myself for the impending pain. It was just my luck, to encounter something as unbelievable as this. A card sprung to life for no reason, putting my life at risk. In actuality, the stats of the card proved the monster to be weak in a duel, but apparently the smallest of attacks are infinitely fatal in real life.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I turned my head away. But a moment after nothing happening, with no searing pain nonetheless, made me tentatively open one eye. I gasped—the monster was gone.

Instead, standing in front of me was the Thief King. His back was facing me, the vibrant shade of red from his cloak rippling around him. I sat up sharply as my eyes trained on him in disbelief. There was no way.

He slowly glanced over his shoulder at me. A smile lethargically spread across his lips, like honey dripping from the jar.

"_Miss me?_"

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter was like running a marathon to complete. I kept redoing parts and altering things, over and over again…it was a mess. In any case, please feel free to reward my efforts with a **review**! You know how they make me feel. Happy. Really happy :)


	18. The Worst in Us

Ryou's Story

By: ACE329

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot—will not—let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

A/N: Er…I believe I owe anyone who has read this story an apology. I can't believe it has been over half a year since my most recent update, which is undeniably quite pathetic. I have never lost interest in writing, but I had a tough battle with time. The spring semester was dreadful, and then I was condemned to summer classes and a cram session for the Praxis…well, we all know this sounds like a meager offering to the Excuse Gods, but it's all I've got. Will this story ever be finished? God, I hope so. But right now, I'm just going to worry about one chapter at a time.

Random grammatical note: It finally occurred to me that when I'm talking about the Sennen items, they are proper nouns so should be capitalized. Therefore I'll try to be consistent and capitalize these words, such as "the Ring," or "the Puzzle."

Chapter Eighteen- The Worst in Us

Seeing the Thief King standing before me for the second time in my life did absolutely nothing to alleviate my awkwardness upon seeing him. To put it plainly, I was a sputtering mess. It didn't help that he had just saved me moments before a giant monster-bug shredded me to bits. I wasn't even sure if _that_ was real.

"I-I didn't t-think you…I mean I tried to…_how_?" Nice. I shook my head, giving up. So much for a suave second encounter. I guess I couldn't be articulate when he was staring at me with those unnerving ink-black eyes.

"_Oh, I only come out when I feel like it_," the Thief King said dismissively. "_But, seeing as you were probably gonna get killed and the spirit of the Ring isn't around to interfere, I figured I might as well_." He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "_And we wouldn't want you diced up into pieces, now would we?_"

I ignored his remark, choosing not to linger on the image. "How did you get rid of that monster anyway?" I asked. One moment, that "Man-Eater Bug" was about to lance me with its pincers and then next thing I knew it had vanished. As if all the Thief King had to do was will it away.

"_Oh, details. How they bore me_," the Thief King sighed. "_Let's talk about something more exciting. Like how you were able to summon the monster in the first place_."

"_I_ didn't do anything," I insisted. "It just sprang from the card out of nowhere." It was the truth. I had only glanced at the card for a second before chaos ensued.

"_Well, of course_," the Thief King said with an edge of sarcasm. An unrecognizable look flashed across his face, perhaps suggesting he knew something that I did not. "_But for the record my friend_, _not everyone can tap into the power of the Sennen Ring like how you just did._"

"Really," I said, unconvinced. "So it was actually the Ring's powers that triggered that reaction from the card? Well then how do I know if _you_ didn't just bring the monster to life?"

"_You should use your head more_," the Thief King chided half-heartedly. "_That doesn't make sense. I came out to __**save**__ you, why would I put you in danger in the first place, hm?_"

I was stumped. "I don't know," I admitted. "But it also doesn't make sense I was somehow able to summon a monster just by looking at it."

"_Yes, yes, you're right_," the Thief King said, stroking his chin. "_Guess it will just have to remain a mystery for now._"

"Guess so," I said shortly. I could tell he believed I awakened a power within the Sennen Ring, though I was adamant to believe otherwise. It was beyond ridiculous, to even think that I had a scrap of the "power" he had suggested…

"_Well_," the Thief King said, cutting into my thoughts, "_Now that I'm out, I might as well extend a hand of invitation to you._"

I swiveled around to look at him directly. "For…?" Something told me I would not like what this offer would entail. Something also told me, despite the friendly guise of the word "invitation," I did not have the liberty to decline the Thief King's awaiting proposal.

"_The spirit of the Ring, as you know, is on temporary leave within the bowels of the Dark Realm_," the Thief King said lightly. I couldn't figure out why he had such an odd smile on his face. "_Yet alas, the time has come for me to retrieve him. For __**us**__ to retrieve him._"

"You can't be serious." It took all my willpower to keep my mouth from stupidly gaping open. Before I could continue to explain why this was utter madness, that I would be more of a burden than a help, another thought overcame me. "Wait. _You're _the reason why Spirit is able to get out of the Dark Realm. Just like the last time." I was referring, of course, to Nameless' return after the spirit of the Puzzle defeated him.

"_You call him 'Spirit,_'" the Thief King noted with a grin. "_It's interesting, the wretched soul lacks a name. He's sort of a __**nameless**__ entity, isn't he? Just sort of there, a constant nuisance in your life._" I twitched slightly at the Thief King's usage of "nameless," and also at the way he looked at me when he said it; it was as if he knew.

"You seem to lack a name too," I pointed out, more so to steer the conversation away from Nameless. "Or do you simply not want to tell me?"

"_You ask a question I don't care to answer_," the Thief King said mysteriously. "_So I will bring us back to my request. Care for a little adventure Ryou? You will get the chance to see what is in this notorious Dark Realm, and what's even more exhilarating, you will probably live to tell the tale." _

_Probably?_ I swallowed, taking my time to respond. "And…and how will we get to this Dark Realm?"

The Thief King's smile widened. "_Oh you don't know? Truly, Ryou? I'm surprised the spirit of the Ring has not enlightened you._"

I folded my arms. "Hard to believe, but Spirit is not keen on telling me much."

"_Of course not. How silly of me. He's a mysterious one, isn't he? Secrets, secrets_." The Thief King clicked his tongue. "_But I digress. The Dark Realm, Ryou, exists in every person's mind. There are a couple ways of getting there, the most common way involving an involuntary exposure to a Sennen item's power. But of course you know this, since you have seen this phenomenon twice already_."

"Which is twice too many, if you ask me," I muttered. "So, since we are going to the Dark Realm voluntarily, does it make any difference?"

"_Oh, it makes __**all**__ the difference_," the Thief King replied. "_Allow me to show you where exactly it is._" Then he smiled slyly at this, advancing forward and grabbing my arm. I distantly noticed the Sennen Ring glowing around my neck. And then, for a moment, everything went black.

When I regained my sight, I immediately recognized where I was.

"This is the hallway between my soul room and Spirit's," I said, vocalizing my thoughts as well as my surprise. "But why?" I couldn't fathom how the Dark Realm could be so alarmingly close to my soul room. It was an eerie thought, being on the brink of this mysterious whirlpool of despair.

"Here, as you know, is your soul room, Ryou," the Thief King responded, gesturing over to the room on the right. "And here, as you also know, is the spirit of the Ring's soul room." Again he made a gesture with his hand, only this time on the left. "So tell me, what's left?"

"Well, up north is sort of the way 'out' of here," I answered slowly, wondering where the Thief King was going with this. "It's the way I go when I want to materialize as a spirit when _he_ has control of my body. But what's that got to do with-?"

"It seems to me we have one more direction to go that you are not familiar with," the Thief King swiftly interjected. "And now seems an opportune time for you to find out what _surprises_ await us."

I reluctantly looked down that gloomy, stonily silent passage that lingered off in the distance. It somehow seemed visibly darker than any of the other sections of my mind. I fought down the urge to retreat.

"This isn't dangerous, right?" I asked more so to reassure myself. I think I already knew the answer. "I mean you're with me, and it seems you have gone through this before."

The Thief King laughed. "Yes, I am well acquainted with the Dark Realm. It's practically my _home_." He ignored the odd look I probably gave him and continued. "But considering my existence is currently only possible through you—very much like a parasite—I would not let you die, no."

"Comforting," I sighed. I just had to get used to the fact that my only value nowadays seemed to have derived from serving as host.

"Now I must warn you that in the Dark Realm, you might not be feeling quite like yourself," the Thief King said. "The Dark Realm is capable of finding your darkest emotions and thoughts and using them as ammunition against you."

I stopped midway of taking a step. "That sounds… you're _sure_ I'll be okay?" By now, I was getting second thoughts. They were quite convincing. And as far as I was aware, I had never agreed to accompany the Thief King to begin with.

The Thief King started to walk in the direction of the Dark Realm and gestured for me to follow. Against all common sense, I reluctantly continued moving. "Again, you are _needed_ Ryou, so I will ensure your safety," he said without a glance back at me. Based on his movements, however, I could tell he was untroubled. One would think we were venturing off to the grocery store.

"So when you say I might not be feeling like myself, you mean what, exactly?" I prompted after a few moments of thoughtful quiet.

"Oh, lots of interesting things happen," the Thief King said in a leisurely tone. "For one, if you happen to be the violent type, you might find it hard to resist causing harm to anything around you. Or, if you are more affected by sadness, you might forget what it's like to be happy."

"These effects aren't permanent…?"

"In time they are. But that doesn't apply to us," the Thief King replied. "Which reminds me. Do you have a lot of unpleasant memories, Ryou?"

I knew what my answer should have been, but I have a habit of euphemizing things. "Er…I suppose it's not any worse than the next person."

"Good, good. Because in the Dark Realm, be prepared for such memories to resurface in vivid detail. But if you don't have many…" he let himself trail off, casually sparing a glance over his shoulder. I refused to meet his eyes.

What I would have liked, I realized bitterly as I struggled adjusting to the noticeably thicker atmosphere around me, was for the Thief King to warn me when we stepped into the Dark Realm. Similar to the north entrance which allowed me to materialize as a spirit, this south entrance had no door to cross. Therefore the shock I experienced from the sudden changes was overwhelming. I resisted the urge to stop and crumble to the floor in desperation to shield myself from this strange, intangible force engulfing me.

It was like stumbling through a dense forest, one that had managed to absorb all forms of light. I wasn't prepared for the immediate shift in utter darkness, with only the sounds of the Thief King's easy breathing and his light footsteps to guide me. There seemed to be a constant, nagging hum that was interfering, however, making it far more difficult to locate the Thief King's whereabouts. Almost irresistibly, I focused my attentions on the humming; I soon realized the drone-like pitch was breaking up into syllables. I could barely make out snatches of the words.

"—_**unloved**__ by all…"_

"—_forever __**alone**__…"_

"—_merely an __**insignificant**__—vessel—__**shell**__…"_

"_A __**shadow**__…"_

Were these messages about me? Now I stopped completely, listening to clarify if it was true, if these messages were catered specifically to taunt me.

"_**Fearing**__ death…yet wondering…"_

"…_if it would have been __**better**__…" _

I couldn't bear to listen any longer. I clasped my hands over my ears, that whiney hum seeming to pierce through my skull to reach me…

Then I realized that the Thief King was no longer with me.

My heart shot up to my throat as I feared what this could mean. Surely it wouldn't take him long to realize we had been separated. I mean, for someone who was as perceptive as I knew him to be…and he said he wouldn't let me die…

But then again, one doesn't exactly die in the Dark Realm, now does he?

Paranoid thoughts, ones that assumed the worst, bubbled within me. What if this was all a trap? What if the Thief King realized that he needed my body but my soul was nothing but expendable? My soul, as Nameless relished in pointing out, only got in the way. There was a faint voice that pointed out that the Thief King gave me his word, though suddenly I was having such strong doubts…

"_Useless, worthless, __**nothing**_…"

"_Cannot figure…where one nightmare ends…"_

"…_And another __**begins**__…"_

"Shut up!" I suddenly found myself yelling. I was trembling all over. "Spirit! _Make it stop_!" No, that wasn't right. I intended to call out for the Thief King. Yet somehow "Spirit" came tumbling out. It must have been my panic that prevented me from thinking clearly. There was something terrible, something truly evil, that was giving these words a certain power to shred my sanity apart. It was like they could target every one of my insecurities and lance them with venomous messages.

Had I known that things were about to get even worse, I am confident I would have refused to venture with the Thief King on this destructive rescue mission.

Words no longer penetrated my mind, replaced by images, powerful and disturbing. The darkness that surrounded me ebbed away into scenes from my past, as if I had been carelessly tossed back into them. They were my memories.

_/"Tell us again why you would want to go home." _

I could feel the anger steadily rising in my chest. _"My sister. I miss her. You sent her back home and you're still keeping me here." _

There was my grandmother, facing me with steely blue eyes. In spite of her dark expression, a tight smile formed_. "'Sent her back home?' No, Ryou, your father wanted her back. He did not, apparently, feel the same way about __**you**__."_

Then there was my grandfather, who cleared his throat. _"Lily, he's a child." _

"_I don't care about that_," I lied. In a strange way, I felt glad, because at least Amane was free from my grandparents—no, my grandmother's—strict regime. My father had listened to my final plea with him after all. _"Please just let me go home. For a visit." _

"_You see what I mean?" _My grandmother turned on my grandfather. _"He's ungrateful. He doesn't appreciate all that we do for him—"_

"_I know what you want,"_ I said. _"You want my mother's piano. It's worth a lot of money, I know it is, and you want it for yourself. Well I don't care what you do or say, I'm not letting you take it!"_

In a heartbeat there was a sharp stinging across my cheek. My grandmother stared hard into my face, her hand still raised, her entire body shaking with anger. _"You stupid boy,"_ she said, her voice menacingly low. _"You think that's what this is about?"_

My grandfather stepped forward. _"Lily—" _

She held up a hand. "_Child, your father doesn't want you. You are nothing to him but a bitter memory of his deceased, foolish wife. We agreed to take you because frankly, we need an heir to our possessions when we pass away. We are trying to condition you to be a proper English boy, Ryou, and you are failing spectacularly." _She took in a deep breath, peering down at me as she would an insect_. "No, no you will not get to visit for the weekend, or ever, for that matter_. "

The sense of despair that washed over me, that overwhelming feeling of defeat, as I remembered, never quite seemed to go away./

I blinked, suddenly ripped back to the present. Despite my awareness that I was only reliving a memory, it somehow seemed so real. Every thought that ticked across my mind at that given moment was rallied up once more from the dead. I did not get much time to reflect upon this, though, because suddenly the humming in my ears grew in volume and before I knew it I was thrust into another memory.

/"_It's shameful, really, the way you allow your hair to get this long._" It was my grandmother again, this time snatching a fistful of my hair. It took a tremendous amount of willpower not to wince. "_You should cut it._"

I pulled away, trying to strain the alarm out of my voice. "_It's none of your business_."

My grandmother lanced me with a scathing glare. "_You look like a girl. And with that feminine face of yours…_"

I suppose up until that point, I had never given my appearance much thought. It had never occurred to me that my looks did not pass for "normal." But, of course, there was a _reason_ I preferred my long hair…

"_Oh,"_ my grandmother said, as if reading my thoughts. _"I see now. You must like to hide behind all that hair."_ She tutted when I did not reply. _"Does it make you feel invisible, Ryou? Is that it? No, that is not acceptable behavior." _

It didn't take long for me to connect the dots. _"No,"_ I said flatly. She couldn't do this to me. I _needed_ my hair to hide from people when I didn't have the strength to look them in the eye. At times I couldn't bear the reproachful stares I would get on a daily basis. Suddenly I would feel I was drowning in a sea of loathing and the only buoy holding me up was my ability to vanish. I could slip behind the curtain and pretend nothing and no one was there. _"Please, not that."_

She was merciless, of course. _"Don't be ridiculous."_ Her mouth twitched. _"We will have to shave it all off."_

The last thing she said before I was sent to her hairdresser was how I would soon look the part of the "proper" English boy she wanted.

Within an hour I marveled at how my head felt so impossibly light, and how the curtain of hair I hid behind my entire childhood so easily fell away in pathetic white tufts. I felt naked and vulnerable, and more than anything, I wanted to know who that boy was staring back at me in the mirror with such dead eyes. /

I felt sick as I snapped out of that memory. How exposed I felt when my head was shaved. Later when I permanently moved back to my original home, I refused to have my hair cut any shorter than shoulder's length, even when I no longer felt the urge to hide.

Realizing I had crumpled to the floor, I forced myself to straighten up. Those memories that bombarded me were not mere coincidences. I now knew what the Thief King meant when he said unpleasant moments would be used as "ammunition" against me. I just wish he would have given me a better warning. It was a terrible experience, having to relive memories I had gladly repressed up until that point. It would have been wonderful if the Thief King had told me a way to fight off these attacks from the Dark Realm.

I forced myself to start walking in search for my runaway guide. Did the Thief King even realize I was gone? How long had we been separated? It was so easy to lose track of time. Then, like an oncoming tide, I felt another memory lap at my feet, begging to wash over me. I tried to resist it, but before I could think of a way to block out unwanted thoughts I felt my conscious mind slipping away…

/ _"I wish you could stay here."_ It was my sister, Amane, who spoke. For her sake I tried to smile.

"_I'd rather have you living with Dad than at our grandparents,"_ I said evasively. _"So don't worry about me." _

"_I miss your hair," _Amane said suddenly_. "You look weird without it. I can't get used to it."_

"_Oh, __**you**__ miss my hair?"_ I would have laughed if I weren't so miserable. A strained silence fell between us.

Amane frowned. "_Why can't Dad let us both stay here?"_

"_I'm lucky I was even allowed to visit for the weekend. Grandmother forbade it, and she'd been true to her word until now." _My voice sounded automated, dead, like a robot.

"_Even witches can feel sorry, sometimes," _Amane speculated. _"But you're held like a prisoner, Ryou. We've got to get you out. I'll have to convince Dad to take you back." _She lowered her voice. "_What did you __**do**__, Ryou?"_

"_Amane, I don't really—"_

"_Why doesn't he like you?"_ she blurted out. She recoiled, suddenly realizing how awful her question sounded.

The truth was, I didn't think my father really liked either of us, not since my mother died. I was told time after time from my grandmother how much of a nuisance Amane and I were to my father. We were sticky little reminders of a tarnished dream, a thorn in his side. Between the two of us, however, I knew my father liked Amane more. I couldn't say I blamed him.

"_Amane, you have an art lesson to go to,"_ I said in a measured tone. _"You shouldn't be late because we were talking about this." _

"_You sound too much like an adult_," Amane hummed. _"I'll go when I'm good and ready."_

"_Which is now, young lady." _We both turned to see Amane's main caretaker, Claire. She was barely a year over thirty, but she looked much older. Her dark eyes swept over the room. _"This place is a mess,"_ she muttered to herself. _"I'll have to get to it later." _With a jingle of keys, she breezed through the door, gesturing for my sister to follow. Amane and I exchanged glances.

"_You promise you won't leave at least until I get home?"_ Amane asked. _"You said you're being picked up soon." _

"_Even if they come for me, I'll make sure I see you first,"_ I reassured her. _"Or else they'll have to drag me." _ Amane brightened at this and moved to collect her art bag. She lingered at the doorway for a moment then turned to look at me. A strange look passed her face.

"_What?"_ I asked.

In a couple strides she made her way over and hugged me. _"Bye,"_ she said. And then she was gone.

How confused I was. It was as if she knew something I did not, as if she had discovered some detail I had overlooked.

It wasn't until a brief period of time later—I don't know if mere minutes or a whole hour passed—when I heard sirens. I thought nothing of this.

Until time continued to march on and my sister never returned home. /

A cold sweat had broken out and I was trembling harder than before. I cursed my inability to block this memory out, which was the one I would have given anything to forget. I didn't care it was the last living memory I had of my sister, it only brought me pain when I thought of how easily she slipped away from this world. It froze my very soul to think how fragile life was and all the things I could have said and done that were more meaningful than looking at my sister with a dumb, blank expression as she walked out the door. It could drive me crazy to think of the _what ifs. _

But that memory sent me over the edge. I had enough of this. Under no circumstances could I let another awful memory stab through my defenses. I knew I didn't have the strength to stomach reliving every painful memory lurking in my brain. And where was the Thief King during all this? Was he even looking for me? Anger prickled my insides as I fumed over my situation. I should have never allowed him to bully me into this. And for what? To save Nameless, my personal tormenter who leeched off my soul? I could think of a thousand other ways to waste my time.

Even in this dismal place, I still had some shred of a conscience, I suppose. There was a tiny voice that chided me for thinking such nasty things, and maybe I thought more of Nameless than a parasite, but it wasn't by much.

"Thief King!" I yelled. My voice bounced off invisible walls, eventually diminishing in the darkness. I tried again, frustration welling in me. How could he not hear me? How far away was he? Not to mention, I felt absolutely ridiculous calling this manifestation of Nameless the "Thief King." What nonsense. I waited for a moment, and, reluctantly concluding he likely wouldn't show up anytime soon, began walking. I came here, albeit unwillingly, to find Nameless, and so that was what I would attempt to do.

It wasn't long before I could feel another onslaught of memories creep at the edges of my mind. Which awful occurrence would be selected this time? I braced myself, and hoped the answer would be none of them, as I willed every one of my thoughts to remain rigid and solidly resistant of any unwanted invasion. I would keep them locked away, safely quarantined with no chance of release. The urge to succumb to a memory, however, only increased.

"_No_," I growled through gritted teeth. To what I was talking to I had no idea. "Stay _away_." But an unexpected thing happened. I noticed a golden film outlining my body, stretched over my skin as tightly as a latex glove. It was remarkably similar to what had happened earlier in the day when I accidentally summoned a monster card. And before that, when a security guard was about to harm me, that same golden light erupted from nowhere to protect me. I didn't understand why it was happening, or what caused the light to form, but I felt immeasurable relief and the pull to fall victim to a bad memory faded away.

I tentatively held up a hand, fascinated by the golden barrier. What caused it to form?

"Ah, I see you've used the Ring once more."

I whipped around at the voice. "You." The Thief King swaggered toward me. Thanks to the light formed around me, I could see his face completely devoid of concern. This caused my previous anger to rise again, egged on by his total disregard to the danger he had just put me in. "You left me. Where were you?"

But he only chuckled at this. "No, no I did not leave you, Ryou. _You_ were the one who could not keep up."

"I yelled for you…"

"Sound carries differently here. You can't count on anyone to hear your screams but you. But if you would like to place the blame on me, then I accept." I could tell that guilt was a foreign concept to him, and regardless if I felt either fondness or frustration towards him, he couldn't care less. Clearly seeing that rousing a response out of him would be useless, I grudgingly dropped the subject. It was not the first time I felt I should have let the Thief King get Nameless on his own.

The two of us continued walking, and I had a much easier time keeping up now that undesired thoughts could no longer bombard me. Plus, the light around me ensured I could always see the Thief King directly ahead.

"So tell me, Ryou…" the Thief King began, "do _you_ even know what you're doing when you summon the Ring's powers?"

"No," I said earnestly. "It just sort of happens. I was hoping _you_ could tell me what makes it react."

"Hmm. As I said before, I guess it will have to remain a mystery." I noticed the Thief King eyeing me curiously, which made my face redden. There was absolutely nothing special about me, and I found it frustrating that the Thief King felt otherwise. But he didn't understand, I wanted nothing to do with the Ring or some latent power within me to interact with it. Was this ability any indicator of the "evil" inside me? The mysterious man who ran into me on the boat, Shadi, warned me against the growing evil inside of me. Was it possible that he was right? I was deeply troubled by this thought.

"I forgot to say," the Thief King piped up, "but when you see the spirit of the Ring, do not be surprised." I waited for him to continue talking, yet he stopped. He had an infuriating habit of never saying enough. It was as if he grew bored of talking so allowed his thought to trail off.

"Why do you say that?" I prompted. I picked up my pace to keep up with the Thief King's longer legs. The gap between us was increasingly growing and I was determined not to get lost again.

He remained oblivious to my struggles. "When one is unwillingly sent to the Dark Realm, the Shadows slowly eat away the soul. I'm sure the spirit of the Ring's soul isn't very tasty," he snickered.

I was stunned at the Thief King's insensitivity. "'Shadows'…what do you mean by that?"

"Oh. Hm." The Thief King paused, temporarily stumped. "These 'Shadows' are manifestations of…evil, I guess you would say. They come in a bunch of forms…sometimes they're called Messages as well."

I sharply inhaled. "Earlier, there was something trying to tell me horrible things, like it knew every insecurity I had and voiced it…"

"Yesss," the Thief King smiled. "Whatever'll do damage."

"But what about when I am forced to relive awful memories?"

"Messages," the Thief King nodded. "They are tricking your brain to pull up these memories and convince you that it's real."

I shuddered. "It's a good thing I was somehow able to block these Messages out after a while." I knew it could have been so much worse. Other occurrences in my childhood would have been even more painful and humiliating than what I already dealt with.

"Ahh. Ryou, do you feel it?" The Thief King suddenly tilted his head up with a knowing smile.

"Feel what?" I cautiously asked. It probably wasn't good news.

"The atmosphere. Everything. There is a change." I glanced around me uneasily. There wasn't much to see except the small distance ahead of me from the light the Ring provided, but the Thief King was right; I became suddenly aware of a change in the environment. It somehow grew colder and it became much harder to breathe, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the Dark Realm. My skin began to tingle, the hairs on my body standing on end.

I took a step closer to the Thief King, just to be sure he wouldn't get out of my sight. "What's happening?"

"That's the feeling of walking into an area where the number of Shadows has infinitely increased. They are gathered together."

I stayed silent. It dawned on me for what reason these Shadows might be conglomerating.

"Yes…" the Thief King continued as if I had asked him a question, "they are attracted to the spirit of the Ring's soul. Always, they are hungry for victims. _That_ is the difference between a soul walking into the Dark Realm willingly and a soul being forced here."

"They are tearing his _soul_ apart," I whispered, almost too horrified to say it. What had happened to me earlier, I realized, was nothing compared to what Nameless was probably going through. Plus, without the Ring's powers at his disposal, what defense did he have?

"Will…will he be…?"

The Thief King lifted his arm slowly, pointing. "See for yourself."

Nameless was sitting not too far away. I was unable to see him before because he was so close to the ground. His limbs were sloppily folded under him and his arms were hanging limply at his sides. When we approached him, he made no indication he was aware of it. He just stared ahead blankly.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked. It was the strangest thing, seeing him so passive, so dead. I had at least expected him to be able to talk, or _acknowledge_ me.

"He's trapped in his own personal hell," the Thief King replied. I turned to look at him. He seemed a little _too_ happy. He then shrugged dismissively. "That's what happens when you lose a Dark Game."

"Well, make him snap out of it!" I ignored the curious look the Thief King gave me. Tentatively, I moved directly in front of Nameless; or rather, his corpse. I stared down at him as a frown settled on my face. "We _can_ fix him, right?"

"Hmm." The Thief King moved next to me. "Two things. One, you make it seem like he's a toy that only requires a new part. It's not that simple. And two, any particular reason _you_ want him 'fixed'?"

I flinched, as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me. He leaned in closer. "I mean, he is your personal terrorist, yes?"

I turned away, folding my arms. "Y-you make it sound so black and white."

The Thief King smiled wryly. "Isn't it, though? You either want him to suffer, or you don't."

My gaze was pulled back to Nameless. "He's in his own personal hell. I wouldn't wish that on anybody." I was telling the truth. Although Nameless was a constant thorn in my side, I took no delight in knowing he was living in a nightmare.

The Thief King seemed amused by this idea. "Well, well. Looks like I'm in the presence of a saint." He shook his head. "If I were you, I'd demand revenge. Oh yes, with what he's done, I'd say, 'Let him burn in hell.'" He snorted. "And you're asking for some damn mercy."

"Then why did we come here?" I demanded. I angrily gestured over to Nameless with a swipe of my hand. "We come all this way, and you mean to tell me you don't want to save him? Why did we waste our time, then?"

"I never said I wouldn't restore him," the Thief King pointed out lazily. He elaborated after my puzzled silence. "I only wanted to know how you'd react."

My jaw slackened a bit. "…Why?"

The Thief King tapped the side of my head. "To figure you out. To see how you tick."

I edged away from him, brushing my surmounting confusion aside. "I'm not all that interesting," I remarked stiffly after a short pause. Judging from his look of appraisal, the Thief King probably thought of me as some delightfully unpredictable experiment.

"Well. I beg to differ, but who am I to say...?" The Thief King shrugged before prodding Nameless with his foot. "Now let's get him moving, hm?"

Maybe it was the absurdity of the entire situation, but I almost laughed at this. "I must be going crazy," I sighed. To think a part of me wanted Nameless dragged out of the Dark Realm mystified me.

Any humor I had was soon wiped away when the Thief King said, "And you're going to be the one to restore him."

I whipped around. "W-what?" But he obviously had done the job many times before, why did he want me to get directly involved?

"Problem? But Ryou, you just said you wanted to see him fixed, yes?" Chuckling, the Thief King grabbed a fistful of Nameless' hair and yanked him to his knees. Nameless' arms dangled loosely at his sides, very much like a marionette. "Or were you all lies? Would you like to see him remaining like this?"

"_Stop_." I turned away, refusing to look at Nameless any longer. Not like this. "What do I have to do?" Was this compassion? Or stupidity?

A foreign look shadowed across the Thief King's face. He flung Nameless to the ground again and reached for me instead. "Give me your arm, Ryou."

I tentatively took a step forward. "My arm?"

He flashed me a grin, his teeth bared. "Oh, yes."

A shudder coursed through me. Common sense told me what I was about to subject myself to would be something I would not approve of. Nevertheless, I held out my arm.

The Thief King's large hand encircled my wrist as he rotated it so it was facing up. My eyes widened in horror as I saw him whip out a dagger from his waistband.

"Wait, hold on!" I tried to wrench myself away but the Thief King's grip was too tight. He didn't seem to notice I was attempting to pull out of his grasp. "Is this necessary?"

"Do not worry Ryou! It will only take a second. Maybe two." Before I could protest any more, I felt a sharp stinging drag across the inside of my wrist, sparks of pain shooting up my entire arm. I bit back a cry, expecting to see blood. I was wrong. In its place, oozing from my cut was what appeared to be a white fog.

"I forgot to say, we do not bleed in the Dark Realm," the Thief King explained as he released me. I waited for him to continue, but he did not.

"So what _is_ this?" I reluctantly touched my wound, feeling a tingling sensation through my fingertips.

"Your soul." The Thief King had said this so casually, as if this wasn't news. "Now, hold your wrist up to his mouth."

I made a sound of disgust. "What's going to happen?"

"Enough questions! Don't be boring. Just do it."

"I would like to know what's going to happen to my soul…" Nevertheless, I obeyed the Thief King's instructions, kneeling down so I could draw my wrist closer to Nameless. I did not like where this was going, but what choice did I have?

It was strange, what happened. As if the white fog were magnetically attracted to Nameless, it began to seep out of my wound in a thick stream and directly into his mouth. And as I watched this happen, I realized that I wasn't exactly feeling any pain from doing this, and the sharp stinging I had experienced from the Thief King's dagger seemed to have vanished. Yet I began to feel slightly nervous when, during this whole process, my head started to prickle as if I had a mild migraine.

"All right, I think that's enough," the Thief King piped up, waving a hand dismissively.

I withdrew, still watching Nameless. I was looking for a sign that he would soon rouse out of his blank state.

"Would you mind explaining to me what I just did so I at least know what's going on?" I asked after a short pause, knowing that the Thief King would not be likely to explain anything unless I specifically asked.

"Nothing of importance," the Thief King said. "You probably lost a couple memories…"

Color drained from my face. "You're joking."

"Silly Ryou, look at you, acting like that's some huge sacrifice," the Thief King jeered. "What good are memories, anyway? Can they be used as currency? No. Do you need them to survive? No. You tell me what good 'memories' are. They only carry worth in the Dark Realm."

"Memories define who we _are_," I said incredulously. "You could have warned me this was going to happen!" Anger flooded through me. Perhaps something of importance had escaped me, and then there was the Thief King, acting as if this wasn't a big deal.

"Now Ryou, be reasonable," the Thief King smiled. "How can you miss any lost memories if you can't remember what they are? And something tells me you would have gone through with it anyway."

I finally stood up, turning to face him. "If you don't care about your memories, why didn't _you_ go through with it instead? Why did you bring me along?" It made absolutely no sense. Clearly the Thief King revived Nameless many times before, yet now he wanted me to do the job for him?

The Thief King scrutinized my face. "You're upset." He took a step towards me, yet I warily kept my distance, glaring at him. "Ryou, the thing is, I _would_ have done it myself, but you see, I don't _have_ many memories left to give."

I paused. "Exactly how many times have you saved him?"

"Doesn't matter," the Thief King said. His gaze lazily trailed over to Nameless. "Oh look, he's coming back."

To be honest, I don't know what I was expecting from Nameless when he came back into consciousness. Maybe a feeble acknowledgement for my efforts, a hint of surprise, or perhaps even a scrap of gratitude?

But I did not expect, the moment his eyes focused in on me, for him to bolt across the distance between us and strike me.

I heard the crack in my jaw where his knuckles collided before I felt it. Soon the pain came gushing from my face and dominated all my senses. The initial shock from the blow slowly ebbed away, a toxic reaction beginning to boil within me.

Normally, I would have likely backed away from Nameless and feel wounded for the rest of the day. Yet something strange and inexplicable came over me, and before I could think about the next course of action, my body reacted: I punched Nameless right back. I don't think the force of my attack was nearly as powerful as Nameless,' and there certainly wasn't a satisfying crack from coming into contact with his jaw, yet the damage had been done. The Thief King seemed to fade into the background, as all I could focus on was the utter astonishment washing over Nameless' face, which soon transitioned to rage.

"I'm going to _kill_ you," he growled. And at that moment, I knew he meant it.

"Now, now, I'm sure that would be counterproductive," I heard the Thief King yawn a short distance away. I didn't pay him any attention. Before I could take in even a breath, Nameless lunged at me again. This time, however, I was ready. I heard the _whoosh_ of air as his fist missed me by a finger's width.

"_You_ are the reason I lost that damn match with Pegasus!" he snarled as he attempted another jab at me. By some miracle, I dodged that as well. I could see how severely anger contorted his face. He looked absolutely feral. "It's your damn fault, you worthless, backstabbing, pathetic worm!" Finally my luck ran out as I felt a rush of force crash into my stomach as I doubled over.

Instantaneously, it was as if with that blow he had transferred some of his anger over to me. With only a half-second to catch my breath, my head snapped up.

"You want to start calling names?" I hissed, taking a step towards Nameless. "Fine! Where do I begin? _You're_ a moron because if any activity in your brain called a thought occurred, you would realize that I was here to drag your ungrateful self _out_ of the Dark Realm! How does that make me a backstabber?" Steady fury colored my words and kept me going. I ignored all else but ensuring Nameless heard and understood every word. "Which brings me to another point: to be a backstabber, I had to have been on your side to begin with. What, tell me, _what_ makes you think I betrayed you if I never wanted you to succeed from the first damned day I met you? Yet still, here I am, trying to save you. And who knows why, considering I would love nothing more than to see you rot here. You deserve it!" I folded my arms as I watched a strange look come across Nameless' face. Perhaps a grudging revelation.

"It wasn't you who made me lose." Nameless wasn't asking me; it was a statement.

_Excellent observation_, I wanted to snap, but I didn't feel like rousing another screaming match. All I could do to keep from saying something nasty was nod once.

I saw Nameless' eyes cut over to the Thief King, and I too remembered he was there. The Thief King raised his eyebrows.

"No, please, keep going, I love seeing you two fight. It's really something else," he said. "I mean, I didn't think Ryou had it in him, but then again, the Dark Realm is easily able to extract the worst in every individual and enhance it a hundredfold. Looks like Ryou here has more suppressed rage than one would think—"

"Why did you let him come?" Nameless demanded, his voice shaking with the dregs of his previous temper. "Why were you talking with him to begin with when you could have easily brought me back yourself without his help? I told you this before and I'll say it again: _we had a deal_. You are not to be contacting him under any circumstances."

The Thief King's eyes flashed wildly. "While you were away, dear spirit of the Ring, Ryou was almost obliterated by one of your monster cards. Naturally I had no choice but to interfere."

"That's beside the point, you were merely straining for a reason to—he activated a monster card?" Nameless was scowling now, sparing only a cursory glance in my direction.

"I'm right here," I pointed out crossly. "Ask me." Regardless, Nameless ignored me.

"Oh yes, I think so," the Thief King said. "There is no other possible explanation, I don't think."

"Figures." Nameless whipped around to look at me disdainfully. "You apparently have the 'power' to summon a monster, yet lack the ability to control it. As always, you're worthless."

"And you're ungrateful," I fired back. "I didn't have to come here—"

"I didn't want you to come!" Nameless snarled. He switched his attention to the Thief King with a jagged motion. "_Why did you bring him here?"_ It interested me how, like the other time I saw Nameless interact with the Thief King, Nameless' face was strained and his muscles were tense, like he would flee at any given moment. I could see past his bold demands and flashy displays of anger; he was genuinely terrified. I had no idea why this was, because to me, the Thief King seemed the least dangerous of the two. Just alarmingly detached.

Apart from this observation, I also noticed there was something _off_ about Nameless. I stared hard into his pale face, confirming my suspicions. His left eye would occasionally twitch, and his eye movements were frantic. He looked a step away from absolute madness.

"I thought it would be useful to show little Ryou around the place, you know, to familiarize him with it," the Thief King said without a trace of humor.

"But you told me you didn't have many more memories to sacrifice," I said accusingly. "That's why you wanted me to bring Spirit back instead of you."

"You—you what?" Nameless' eye twitched. He jerked toward the Thief King. "You _let_ him bring me back?"

The Thief King rolled his shoulders indifferently. "Why not? As I explained to Ryou, who needs memories anyway? In any case, I was interested to see if he would do it."

"So this was just an experiment to you?" I asked the Thief King. "Why? Why does it matter whether I go through with it or not?"

"Hm. I'm bored with this conversation. We accomplished what we needed to, and so now we must go back." Without so much as a warning, the Thief King grabbed both my wrist and Nameless' as I felt the wind get knocked out of me. When I next opened my eyes, we were back at the "crossroads" area of my mind, which was blessedly silent compared to the constant drone in the Dark Realm. I glanced over at Nameless, who was now holding his head in his hands. He looked visibly sick, his skin still drained of all color. Now that we were out of the Dark Realm, I could see far more clearly how damaged Nameless really was. What was truly amazing was his ability to mask it. He caught me staring at him and immediately straightened up, back to himself.

All the hostility I felt previously subsided. I could see how much in pain Nameless was in. "Spirit…" I began. But Nameless cut me off before I could finish my thought.

"How long have you two been wasting time around here? Vessel, it's foolish to abandon your shell of a body for this long. What would happen if someone approached you?" A cruel sneer curved Nameless' mouth. "Then again, you usually have a vapid expression on your face anyway. Perhaps a passerby would not know the difference."

A wave of shock washed over me. I only wanted to make sure he was okay. Who knew why I would even try to ask, let alone why I cared. Time and time again, Nameless would lash out at me and further prove how senseless it was to feel anything towards him other than hostility. And of course it was stupid to think Nameless might express gratitude at my willingness to save him. Instead, it seemed he was even _more_ determined to mistreat me.

"I suppose you would rather have a nice sit in the Dark Realm, then, is that it?" I asked coldly.

"Right, because you're so _useful_, Vessel, that you just saved me all by yourself. It was all you. Actually," Nameless said, his eyes darting between me and the Thief King in open hatred, "I think I would have rather rotted in there than fall victim to your pity. Spare me."

The Thief King looked highly amused. "A little salty about the rescue mission, eh? My apologies for forgetting to take your pride into account. Heh." Nameless appeared as if he wanted to murder the Thief King, yet he remained silent.

Wary of the conversation and Nameless' sour attitude, I decided to slip back into consciousness, back in my physical body. I didn't bother to say anything to either the Thief King or Nameless, because I suddenly found myself very tired of the both of them. Nameless, as usual, was being his unpleasant self – if not worse—while the Thief King was starting to rouse my suspicions. I did not know if I could trust him. The reason he gave me for taking me to the Dark Realm differed from the reason he gave Nameless. If it was not such a big deal, why didn't he simply tell the truth? Clearly there was something important that he was not telling me.

I blinked against the sunlight, realizing that it was approaching evening already. More time passed than I thought. The autumn sun was beginning to set, settling behind the trees in the distance. I speculated it to be around dinnertime, though thankfully I wasn't hungry. Apart from the large meal I had earlier in the day, I felt slightly nauseated from my bitter encounter with Nameless. There was a part of me that was hoping for a different reaction when Nameless regained his senses. I suppose I had hoped he would realize that I didn't _want_ to hate him. There was some irrational part of me that wanted to form a connection. Ridiculous.

I set off in the woods again, noting the lack of people nearby. I wondered if anyone approached me while I was off on my "adventure." That would have been interesting. As I walked, I distantly considered that I had no idea where I was going, though I was too tired to care. I would always be on this stupid island no matter which way I went, condemned here until this awful tournament was over. But then, I found myself in such a bad mood I thought _everything_ to be awful. I stomped around the forest area for a considerable time longer, brooding about my circumstances.

It took me a while to notice that the sun had dropped below the horizon, dragging the light with it. I tripped a couple times in the dark, dreadfully ungraceful in my footing. Walking across a forest, let alone in the dark, was asking for a disaster with a clumsy person like me.

With that in mind, I guess it was practically inevitable when I literally stumbled into my high school friends. They were sitting around a campfire—Yuugi, Anzu, Jounouchi, and Honda—and looked up in absolute shock when I tumbled past a particularly cumbersome bush and into their circle. I was just as shocked as they were, not expecting to see their faces.

Yuugi looked incredulous, squinting to make sure he was seeing right. "Bakura?" The group examined me as if I were an alien from a faraway galaxy. And I don't blame them for their surprise, either, considering just now I had decided to show up. How strange it must have seemed to them to not see me for the entire ship ride or on the island all day, then make a grand appearance. I know it didn't make sense. But it was an accident, what could I do?

I brushed myself off, ignoring the uncomfortable stares in my direction. I raised a hand awkwardly in greeting.

"Er…hi."


End file.
